The Faker's Trials
by Eternal Escapist
Summary: Shirou Emiya thought that winning the Holy Grail War would bring him peace, but boy was he wrong. How will a Hero of Justice survive when a strange series of events flings him into a dimension of gods and monsters? Forced to adapt to his new surroundings, he ends up joining a whole new war. Will it turn out as well as the first? Or will he die there, unable to find his way home?
1. Chapter 1

It's a part of Man's nature to be curious about life in general. Why am I here? How did the world begin? Is there anything out there in the endless void of space? These are questions we often ponder on a daily basis, in some cases even going as far as dedicating our lives to finding answers to them.

Amongst these questions, there is perhaps but one that comes to our minds more often than all the others: 'What if…?'

What if I had done things differently, or not made a decision in the first place? How would my life be different? Would I be better off? It's as if we live to fantasize about these… possibilities, discontent with the life we live, unable to accept the reality that we live in. For most people, these realities are nothing but dreams… but I know better. You see, there are some things that your average person is not aware of, the perfect example being that magic still exists in this world. Ah, forgive me… I guess I should refer to it as Magecraft, which is its proper term. The term Thaumaturgy is also valid, but I tend to find it's a bit of a mouthful, so I use the term Magecraft instead.

Magecraft is a mystical art, though one tied much closer to science than one might expect. It requires precision and calculations to achieve the desired outcome. There is no waving a wand and saying 'Abracadabra' like in the stories. Well, I suppose you could if you really wanted to, but it would be a wasted effort.

Anyway, you can do some pretty spectacular things through Magecraft, or better yet, its more powerful counterpart, Magic. Where Magecraft is used to bring about something that is possible through science using supernatural means, true Magic exceeds that, allowing one to perform feats that are otherwise 'impossible'. By this, I mean, it surpasses all Magecraft and sciences of a given age. In this sense, it is much more mystical than Magecraft and capable of performing incredible things… such as bending time and space. And opening passages to other worlds.

Thanks to my knowledge of Magecraft and Magic, I know that the concept of alternate realities is very much real. More than that though, I know that it is theoretically possible to travel to these worlds, though it's very difficult. Yet, even knowing what I do, the events that were about to occur to me were so preposterous that I hadn't even considered them a possibility in any of the potential realities, let alone my own.

Let's just say that I was about to have an interesting day.

* * *

October 8th - 1st day AM

…I hear a sound.

A heavy, rusty sound of an old door in dire need of oiling, creaking open slowly.

I feel a gentle warmth as light washes over me and I groan, my body refusing to accept that I should probably wake up.

"Senpai, are you awake?"

The sweet-sounding voice enters my ears, coaxing me from my slumber. But I can be remarkably stubborn when I want to be and still refuse to wake. A small hand touches my shoulder, gives me a gentle shake and only then do I finally open my eyes.

The first thing I see is the smiling face of someone whom I consider a close friend: Sakura Matou, my junior from the school I currently attend, Homurahara Academy. Her features are delicate, refined even. Brilliant violet eyes gaze straight to my soul, filled with barely-concealed amusement as I drowsily return her stare. I guess I must look pretty funny right now.

Her hair was dark, with an amethyst sheen. The hair on the left side of her head was styled with a pinkish-red ribbon, a treasured gift from her sister. A strand of hair fell across her right cheek and she brushed it back with the same hand, with a delicate, graceful movement. As it was a weekend, she was dressed in her casual clothes rather than her uniform. A white top, pink cardigan and a long cream-coloured skirt. From the open door, the rays of the sun illuminated her perfectly.

She was… captivating.

I felt my breath hitch and rushed to speak, hoping she wouldn't notice my hesitation.

"...Good morning, Sakura."

Thankfully, she seemed to mistake the huskiness in my voice as a result of having just woken up.

"Good morning, Senpai. My, it's not like you to sleep in so late," she said cheerfully. "Did you stay up late training again?"

I look around me, recognising the room as my workshop. To be honest, it's little more than a shed I commandeered as a storage room. There's only one room, about three-hundred square feet, which is just about enough to store my not-at-all-insignificant hoard of odds and ends. In what should be a fairly spacious room, most of it is occupied by boxes and miscellaneous tools in varying states of disrepair. The floor is plain concrete, perfectly smooth, aside from some small areas where it's scuffed from heavy objects being shunted across it. In the packed room, there is one part that has been kept clear- a small area where the floor is scored with an intricate circular pattern. The walls are made out of clay and are a dull grey colour, like the floor. Thick wooden beams further reinforce the walls, with an additional few acting as supports for the ceiling towards the centre of the room. There is a small mezzanine floor against the back wall, with a staircase against the left wall, near the entrance.

At the moment, I'm slumped over an old microwave, which suggests I fell asleep while tinkering with my collection of broken appliances. "Must have done. I probably spent a little too long toying around in here."

Sakura pulls what's no doubt meant to be a stern face. Unfortunately for her, her round cheeks make it difficult for her from looking anything but adorable. "I think you should spend a little less time training and a little more time sleeping. A reasonable sleep pattern is important for your health."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, to which Sakura beams in response. I could be imagining it, but she seems unusually happy today, for some reason. "Ah, I need to get up and make breakfast."

"No, no, leave it to me! You've only just woken up and you've not even showered or anything yet. Ahhh, I don't mean that you look like a mess or anything! It's just-"

I laugh, interrupting her ramblings. "I get what you mean, don't worry. I'm clean enough for now, I can shower afterwards. Besides, I imagine there are a few people who'll be very cranky if breakfast isn't ready soon."

Sakura giggles again and helps me to my feet. The biggest downside of sleeping in here instead of my room is waking up feeling stiff all over.

"Ouch… thanks, Sakura," I say. My junior simply smiles in response. "Now, let's… er, Sakura. Any particular reason you're still holding my hand?"

She looks down, her eyes locking onto her small hand, clasped around my own. She freezes, as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Then her face flushes red and she jerks back with a yelp. "I-I… I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright, Sakura. I don't-"

Before I even have the chance to finish my sentence, she bolts out the door. "…Mind," I finish in a mutter. "Jeez, what's with her this morning? It really wasn't something to fuss over." I bet she'd been worrying about making me uncomfortable with the physical contact or something. Considering how long I'd known her, I really didn't mind it. Shaking my head in bewilderment, I follow after her.

I'm dazzled by the sunlight as I emerge from the shed. I already knew it could get dark in there, given that there are only two small windows near the door, but things like this just make me realize the extent of it. When my eyes finally adjust to the light, I cross the yard and head to the house.

The Emiya residence is a traditional Japanese-style house built on the outskirts of Fuyuki city. Rather than being arranged in one continuous block, as most western-style houses are, many of the rooms are placed away from the core of the house and are linked to the rest of the building by corridors. The walls are bleached white, brown wood serving as both reinforcements and decorations. Most of the rooms have wood floors, though the living room and some of the bedrooms have tatami mats instead. Some more modern elements have been added to the building over the years- an inevitable occurrence with a building as old as this one, which wasn't designed to last long anyway. Where there traditionally would have been shoji paper walls at the rear end of the house, large glass windows had been installed instead. The kitchen- which occupies only a small corner of the main room- was nevertheless modern and well-stocked, despite its small size. In addition to the shed, there is one other outbuilding- the dojo. The entire residence was decorated in a minimalist fashion, with little in way of furniture, but with a consistent, understated floral theme. In keeping with true Samurai fashion, the entire property is surrounded by a large wall, providing both security and privacy from prying eyes.

For a long time, this place was left empty, until my father, Kiritsugu Emiya, came by and bought it. He happened to have… business in the area and thought that it would be convenient to have his own residence nearby. It was during this time that this town was struck by a great calamity, a terrible fire that blazed through the city, destroying everything in its path.

Kiritsugu was, at his heart, a hero. Or, at least, someone who aspired to be one. It was a dream that he never truly reached, but even so, he tried. For this very reason, he was one of the brave souls who combed through the burning rubble, looking for survivors. There, he found me, a young boy who had given in to despair and was prepared to die. A broken, empty shell of a human being, who shouldn't have lived to see another day.

And yet, here I am, ten years later. Kiritsugu came to adopt me as his son, at which point I became to be known as Shirou Emiya. I was a blank slate left, with no memories of my life before the tragedy and no personality to speak of. But eventually, I recovered from the trauma of the past- though the scars still remain. I built myself a new identity and a likely a whole new personality too. I discovered a dream I wanted to follow, making friends on the way. Kiritsugu passed on from this world five years ago, but you can still see the impact that he had on what's left behind. In his children: Illya, his biological daughter and me, his adopted son. You can see it in the home where he spent the rest of his days. And in the people who have been brought together because of him. Speaking of whom, I might well encounter some of them right about now…

I walk through a sliding door into the most spacious room in the house, which is a combined living room and kitchen. Immediately I notice that Sakura is already here, standing halfway between the door and the kitchen on my right.

"There you are, Sakura. Look, you really didn't need to run off like that. It's not like you did anything-"

I cut off when she doesn't even respond to my voice. She's standing unnaturally still, looking in the direction of…

I follow her line of sight and there, in the middle of the room, is something that my eyes are struggling to make sense of. A tangled mess of limbs and clashing colours, which I eventually make out to be two of my house guests, caught in a rather compromised position.

One is both slim and athletic, yet not lacking in femininity. Her outfit consists of a white shirt, a dark blue skirt that rides as high as her ribs and a pair of black tights. It's simple, yet the sheer grace with which she holds herself makes it look fit for royalty. A blue ribbon adorns her neck, another tying back her hair, two strands flowing freely past her temples. Her fine locks are arranged into an intricate braid that glitters in the light as if speckled with gold dust.

The second of the two could not be more different. For one, she is far taller than the other, with far more… generous proportions in certain regions- the legs and bosom, to be precise. Yet, despite the more blatant appeal that she possesses, her attire is rather less flattering than that of the first. Her choice of clothing consists of a black turtleneck shirt, accompanied by a pair of dark blue jeans. A pair of rimless glasses are perched on her nose, giving her an intellectual look. Her silken lavender hair tumbles on and on, restrained only by a purple hairband tied halfway down its length.

To my horror, the two of them are lying on top on my coffee table, bodies pressed close together and legs entwined. Two pairs of eyes, teal and lilac, stared back at us fearfully, like rabbits in the headlights. I feel my face heat up and try to tear my eyes away. With a surreptitious pinch, I confirm that I am in not in fact dreaming. Wordlessly, I shuffle over to Sakura.

"Hey… are you seeing this too?" I ask, in a hushed tone.

"If by 'this' you mean Saber and Rider sharing a passionate embrace on the table where we eat our meals, then yes," she replies in a strained voice.

Sakura's quiet reply seems to snap the two of them out of their shock and they rush to disentangle themselves.

"W-what? No!" Rider cries, uncharacteristically flustered. "As if we'd do something like that!"

"I concur!" Saber echoes. "Unlike Rider, such a shameless act is well beneath me."

"Exactly… wait, what did you say?!"

With one snide comment, the pair lock horns and start to exchange wordy insults.

"Oh, so not only were you caught doing something so indecent, you're now having your first lover's spat?" Sakura chimes harshly. "Disgraceful."

"It's not like that!" they both cry, both red-faced and seemingly on the verge of tears.

_Wow, Sakura. I didn't know you could be so… sadistic._

Saber looks at me with desperation in her eyes, as if hoping I'll come to her rescue. But after what I've just seen, I can't meet her gaze and look away with guilt in my heart.

What a way to start a morning.

* * *

Eventually, everything calms down and we manage to sit together around the table to talk things out.

"So, let me get this straight… the two of you got into an argument…" I say.

The two objects of my focus nod their heads.

"Which turned into a bit of a scuffle…"

Another nod.

"Then you both fell onto the table…"

And again.

"And we just happened to walk in at that exact moment?"

"Precisely," Saber says.

I mull over their story for a moment. "What do you think, Sakura?"

"I don't buy it."

_Wow, not a moment's hesitation._

"But it's true!"

"Is it? What were you fighting over then?"

Suddenly, both Saber and Rider look away. Rider mutters something under her breath.

"Sorry, what was that?" I ask.

"...We got impatient while waiting for you to make breakfast," Rider admits begrudgingly. "So we raided the refrigerator and…"

I can't help but burst out laughing. "You mean, you got hungry and fought over some snacks?"

Their indignant expressions only make me laugh harder and even Sakura joins in.

"Ok, ok," I say after my laughter subsides. "I guess it's kind of my fault. I'll get to work, but in the meantime, try not to get into any more fights, ok?"

Enthusiastic agreement meets my words and I start to head over to the kitchen. Sakura too stands up and trails after me.

"I'll help too, Senpai."

"Thanks, Sakura. An extra pair of hands will definitely make things quicker."

As I step through into the kitchen, I feel a premonition and shudder. I look up too late and I'm unable to react before a purple and white shape streaks towards me, accompanied by a fearsome battle cry.

"Oniii-chaaaan!"

Despite being fairly small, the body slams into me hard enough to drive me to the ground. The force of the collision almost makes me black out, but not quite. As I open my eyes, I'm greeted by a delicate, youthful face with vibrant ruby eyes, framed by hair the colour of snow. Her outfit is classy, like that of an aristocrat. She wears a collared, long-sleeve magenta shirt with gold trimmings and a light purple scarf tied around her neck. A knee-length white skirt sways around her legs as she moves and a pair of purple boots covers her feet.

"Good morning, Illya," I say breathlessly. "Glad to see you dropped by. Care to join us for breakfast?"

* * *

After living through my sister's overenthusiastic greeting, Sakura and I get to making breakfast. Despite being late to rise, we manage to scrounge up a decent meal fairly quickly, in part down to the fact that Sakura's already prepared some of the ingredients in advance. Just as we start to arrange the food out on the table, I feel a disturbance in the air, signifying that someone has entered the property and triggered the bounded field. A fraction of a second later, quicker than any human has any right to, my guardian, Taiga Fujimura bursts through the living room door.

Taiga is one of my oldest acquaintances and a long-standing friend of both myself and Kiritsugu. From the moment she met me, she's treated me like part of her family and has been one of my most steadfast supporters.

She is also somewhat of a freeloader who mooches off me for free meals on an almost daily basis. The moment she walks in, her brown eyes lock onto the food laid out before her. Her chestnut-coloured hair is in a state of disarray, giving her a somewhat feral look. She calls out a hasty greeting, even as she dives towards the spot we reserved for her at the table, green dress aflutter.

"Itadakimasu!" she chants, clapping her hands together in sync with the others. Without further preamble, she begins to load up her plate with whatever is within reach.

"Haha, even waking up late, I still managed to make it just in time!" she chortles.

I wish I could say that my mornings weren't normally this chaotic, but I would be lying if I did. Not wanting to be left behind, we all do the same, some more eagerly than others- and by that, I mean a certain pair of snack thieves.

"Ah, why is there still natto?" Illya complains. "I always tell Sakura I don't want natto, but she insists on trying to make me eat it!. Taiga, you'll trade with me, won't you? My natto for your omelette."

"I'm fine with it, but you really should get used to natto. But I guess it's a deal if you only take _half _of the omelette." She munches cheerily as she speaks. "Ah, poor thing… one day you'll realize just what you're missing out on."

"Only half…" Illya replies forlornly. "Fine, I accept. The terms aren't ideal, but they're acceptable. I probably wouldn't be able to eat all of it anyway. But be careful Taiga, or you'll get caught by Sakura's scheme before you even realize it."

"Ok, it's a deal. Half of my omelette for Illya-chan's natto!" Taiga answers. A beat later, she registers the other half of Illya's statement. "Wait, what do you mean by Sakura-chan's scheme?"

The conversation moves on to the topic of dieting and calory intake, at which point Sakura assures everyone that with proper exercise, no-one will be gaining weight from this meal, bar Taiga. Saber takes the opportunity to pilfer a third helping, to which Rider and I exchange a wordless glance. I can't help but think that having extra servings defeats the purpose of properly portioning everything out calorie-wise. I'm sure Rider also had the same thought, yet neither of us gives voice to it… sometimes it's better just to keep one's words to themselves.

Another ten minutes pass relatively peacefully until Sakura reminds Taiga that she needs soon if she wants to make it the cultural festival's preparatory committee meeting. And so, the English teacher in her mid-twenties makes to leave, in the same way that she arrived- that is to say, with all the power of a hurricane. She leaves one last parting comment to Sakura and myself, instructing us to make sure we make it to school on time, before disappearing.

Sakura gives me a bemused smile at the antics of our teacher. "I do hope she stays on her best behaviour, given that she's helping with the cultural festival preparations." Her face takes on a wistful tone. "Speaking of the festival, I was hoping that Nee-san would be back in time for it."

"Yeah. She said she'd be back during summer break, but it's already October. I wonder if something happened to Tohsaka over there."

My schoolmate, Rin Tohsaka, is a magus like me. Except, unlike me, she's exceptionally gifted when it comes to Magecraft. Not only is she the head of her family despite her youth, she's also the second owner of the region where Fuyuki City is built, which means that she's responsible for administrating all supernatural activity within its territory. On top of that, she's also a mentor of sorts and spends much of her free time helping me master my rather unusual magic.

However, despite her brilliance, there's one thing that ruins her perfect image- her propensity for making a mess of things.

"I still can't believe how badly her recent experiment went…" I say. "How can she be as good as she is at Magecraft, yet manage to mess up so bad that she has to go to London- on the opposite side of the world- to appear before the most powerful magic organisation to ever exist?"

"She really is something, isn't she?" Sakura replies, grimacing. "I hope the Clock Tower go easy on her… but given what she's told me about them, I don't like her chances."

About a month back, Rin attempted to create a miniaturised version of extremely powerful artefact known as the Jeweled Sword of Zelretch, which belonged to a Wizard of the same name. It is capable of creating a small opening to a corresponding area in a parallel world, drawing in and harnessing all the magical energy from that space inside itself. The owner of the blade gave its blueprints to one of Rin's ancestors, seven generations back, as a long-standing project for the Tohsaka family. It should have taken many hundreds of years to analyse and reproduce it, yet Rin was able to grasp the blueprint and theory much earlier than Zelretch had anticipated.

Unfortunately, Rin stumbled at the final hurdle, which resulted in unforeseen consequences. Now, she's left with the difficult task of dealing with the ensuing mayhem.

"It'll be the least she deserves," Illya interjects, having overheard our conversation. "After all, not only did her carelessness destroy part of my castle, she also caused a Second Sorcery explosion. Who knows what else could have happened?"

"Is it really all that bad?" I ask. "I thought the worst that happened was all that craziness in the castle?"

"You really don't get it, do you Shirou? What Rin did could have been catastrophic, an event that could have wiped this city off the map!" Illya exclaims. "She very nearly turned this town into a mini terminal. The threads of fate wouldn't just cross over, they'd turn into a ball of twine. The very future would lead into the past."

"So, what you're saying is, the world almost turned into a place where anything that's even remotely possible happens all at once? In other words… a collision of parallel worlds."

"That's… a simplified explanation, if I've ever heard one. But yes, that's the gist of it."

Unlimited possible outcomes, huh? Like being struck by lightning, meteors decimating the city, or the UK winning the Eurovision song contest.

A grim joke that ordinarily has a small chance of occurring, instead being guaranteed to happen.

"Ok, I understand that much," I say finally. "But I feel like what actually happened was a little different. It was like something out of a fairy tale."

"I agree. What Rin managed to do exceeded anything she should have been capable of. In fact, the backlash of her experiment had the potential to be even worse than the Holy Grail War."

I involuntarily shudder at her words.

The Holy Grail War. A reoccurring battle-royale type event where seven magi are selected to fight over an omnipotent wish-granting device, reminiscent of the one from the Arthurian legends. Wielding the power of their Servants- Heroic Spirits given physical form through the use of magic- these 'Masters' duke it out for the sake of unlimited power. With such high stakes, the collateral damage is often immense.

Six months ago, I participated as a Master in Fuyuki City's fifth iteration of the Holy Grail War, with Saber at my side as a Servant. I had no desire for the Grail itself- I only wished to protect the people of this town. And so, I destroyed the Grail at the first opportunity, commanding Saber to destroy the source of its power with her holy blade, Excalibur. With no Grail to fight for, the war came to an end, with no clear winner. There was only one casualty, the fake priest, Kotomine Kirei, who had participated as a Master.

The War is not something I like to think about.

Sakura also reacts at the mention of 'the event which should not be named', though her reaction is rather more acute.

"Sakura, are you alright?" I ask.

"Ah, no. Nothing important. It's just something Rider said," she answers dejectedly, before trailing off.

Well, if she says it's nothing, I'll let the topic drop.

…Or rather, I would have done, if I'd had any say in the matter.

"'Holy Grail War'… that's what Sakura reacted to," Illya says with a smirk. "And here I was thinking you hadn't noticed. I'm impressed… you're even more perceptive than I'd given you credit for."

"...What about the Grail War? That ended half a year ago," I say. "I made sure of that."

"Oh really? And do our resident Servants agree with that statement?" She retorts. "Saber, Rider. I'm sure the two of you know what I'm referring to."

We all turn our attention to Saber and Rider, who both look like they're struggling to come up with an answer.

"Rider?" Sakura asks hesitantly. "Do you and Saber-san know what's going on?"

"N-no, not at all," Rider stammers. "But… I can't help but feel aware of this… tension in the city. It is barely noticeable, yet…"

That alone is enough to make the hairs on my arms stand on end, but I turn to my own Servant for confirmation. "Saber, do you know what Rider is talking about?"

"Yes, I believe I do, though I only have my suspicious so far. Even so, may I…?" I nod at the unspoken question and she continues. "Very well. It is my belief that the sense of discord stems not from the city itself, but from us Servants. For the past few days, Rider and I have both experienced light feelings of hostility towards each other. For some yet undiscovered reason, our instincts are telling us that we must defeat the other Servants- our enemies. In other words…"

"...It's the same sensation that Servants experience during a Holy Grail War," I finish.

Suddenly, their earlier squabble makes a lot more sense. They both like their food, but there was more to it than a mere competition for sustenance. In fact, Servants don't truly need to eat anything at all, as long as they are provided energy from their Master to sustain themselves.

"It's not possible. There's not even a Holy Grail to fight over anymore," Sakura says quietly. "Besides, shouldn't the Church issue a notice if another Grail War was about to start?"

"Yeah. And we haven't gotten one yet," I muse. "Maybe it's not a matter of a new war starting up. Maybe it's the old war _starting over_. That would make more sense. Most of the Master and Servants are still here. I've even got one of my command seals left."

The marks on the back of my left hand tingle at my mention of them. Three runes signifying my status of a Master, bundles of power used to compel my Servant to do my bidding. Two have gone dim through my use of them, but the third still glows faintly, a sign of my continued bond with Saber.

"You may well be right, Shirou," Illya says. "After all, the Grail was destroyed before it was even used. It's possible that something provided the impetus for the fighting to begin anew, to give the war its final resolution."

"So it's a rematch for the defeated then?" Rider asks. "Well then. I think it's fairly clear what's going on, even if the hows and whys aren't clear yet. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

The air grows sense. Everyone, especially the servants, remember that all present were enemies for a time. A single sudden movement might well break the thin veneer of calm, plunging us into conflict.

"Why do we have to do anything at all?" I ask. "Remember, while we could start fighting again, there's Grail to fight over. There's nothing to gain and everything to lose."

After a moment, Rider nods in agreement, the tension leaving her body. Saber, who had been eyeing her closely, also relaxes.

Sometimes I feel as if my Servant is a little too careful. Rider may keep her cards close to her chest, but I know she deeply cares for Sakura and was likely thinking that resuming the war would put her Master in harm's way. I doubt she would do anything to jeopardise Sakura's safety.

"It's exactly as Shirou says," Illya says. "While things may be a little unusual, it's nothing compared to the fact that you Servants have remained here even after the war concluded. We need to be level-headed about this. If someone really is trying to pull some mischief with the Servants, then he'll be bringing about his own downfall."

"We've got something good going on here and that's in no small part because of you two," I say, addressing the two Servants. "Because you've both got good hearts and you do what you can to help others. I know you'll do what you can for the good of everyone."

Saber and Rider blush self-consciously.

"Wow, Shirou. You're really on the mark today!" Illya says. "It's true, so really, this all comes down to what the two of you want to do. Saber, Rider, do you want to resume fighting?"

"I am content with things as they are," Saber answers. "However, if Rider wishes to battle, then I will certainly respond in force."

"Then we are of the same mind," Rider echoes. "While I am happy for things to remain as they are, I will not refuse the opportunity for a rematch, if one reveals itself."

They exchange a heated glare, the very air appearing to flicker with sparks.

_Oh well. It seems as if the two of them were getting along for a while, but I guess at the end of the day, they're still rivals._

I sigh in relief. "I'm glad to hear that you guys are cool with everything. I'll have to have a word with the other Masters and Servants soon, then we can try to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, please try not to have any more fights. Even if it's over something small, like who gets to eat the snacks."

They both nod in agreement and we return to our meal. After hastily finishing off what's left on my plate, I rush to get ready for the day ahead. As I leave for school, the line of conversation weighs heavily in my mind.

For the rest of the day, I am unable to think of anything else.

* * *

**Well, hi there. Welcome to this somewhat peculiar story of mine. You may be asking yourself what you're going to be getting yourself into after reading this chapter, especially given that it's pretty uneventful so far. Don't worry, I'm thinking the same thing. This story is going to be rather intricate and taxing on my abilities as a writer, given that I'm fairly new to it, but hopefully, it's going to turn into something really cool.**

**I'm not going to go into too much detail about what this story is going to be about, but let me just give you a little indication about where I intend to go with this, so you can decide for yourself if you want to carry on reading. The idea is for this story is to be a crossover for the Visual Novel/Anime Fate Stay/Night and the Percy Jackson books. I actually decided I wanted to write this after hahy4040 started writing a story based on the same concept. Hopefully they'll continue writing it because I'm curious to see where they go with it. If you haven't read their story already, feel free to go check it out. It's called "The Hero Remastered" (it's a rewrite, as the writer hadn't decided on a proper creative direction when they started the original).  
Anyway, I have a semi-concrete plan for the plot so far, at least when it comes to major events. I'll be winging a lot of the stuff in-between though, so bear with me if it's a little rough around the edges.**

**For any Fate fans that are confused by this start, you should know that I am not following the storyline of the three original routes. Rather, it's more like I'm following a fourth route that leads to a similar scenario to the one shown in Fate Hollow Ataraxia, the semi-sequel/spiritual successor to the original game. Imagine a combination of events from all three routes- I'll flesh out exactly what occurred prior to the start of the story over time- that result in a similar world. Be prepared for some whacky events and some intense guesswork on my part- there's not an awful lot of info to be found to explain how and why things are the way they are at the start of Fate HA. On that note, if there's anyone who remembers anything regarding the "backstory" of the game, please feel free to fill me in with either a review or a direct message. (And yes, I am aware that all is not as it seems when it comes to that game. I've had quite a few people point out that things won't work out the way I want if I follow FHA, so I feel like I need to reiterate that there are differences here, even if they aren't evident yet).**

**I also have to confess that I am no expert on either series (I keep having to replay parts of Fate Stay Night and Hollow Ataraxia, plus I'm currently re-reading the first few Percy Jackson books to gather as much info as I can for this story). It would mean a lot to me if you guys would be willing to help me with this if you're able to, or point out any inconsistencies/mistakes I've made, so I can improve in the future. But please try to phrase it diplomatically- at the end of the day, we're all here to have fun.  
**

**I know for a fact that I'm going to have a lot of questions about various things from both universes, so I may at times ask for information in these author's notes. I had a few questions here previously about the workings of magecraft and its energy production, but I've received enough answers that I felt I could edit it out now. But I will be asking more in later chapters, so feel free to leave a review or send me a PM if you have the answers I'm looking for.**

**Depending on what you guys think of these first few chapters (and any new info I stumble upon) I might end up doing a rewrite, to make the story better or more accurate. So for now, think of this as a draft story. Unless you want to see more, of course, in which case I'll just try to carry it on without a rewrite if possible. Do drop a review or PM if so!**

**And finally, if you like what you see here and you want to see more, maybe you can consider visiting my ****P.A.T.R.E.O.N. ****page and supporting an aspiring writer? Donations are not only an indication that you like my work, but it also gives me a reason to sink more time into writing. If you're interested, the link to my P.A.T.R.E.O.N. page is on my profile.**

**This ended up being far longer than I had meant to, so I won't keep you any longer. Have a good one... hopefully, I'll hear from you again on my next upload. Bye!**

* * *

_Edited on 24/12/19: Changed the author's notes a little._


	2. Chapter 2

October 9th - 2nd day AM

A new day dawns, heralding the start of another series of mundane events. As today is the start of a long three-day weekend, I stayed home and spent most of the morning completing some of the many daily chores.

Considering the size of my home, it's not surprising that there's a lot to do to keep the place in shape. Most people would look at the sheer amount of work required and be rightly overwhelmed, but over the years I've gotten so used to it that it no longer phases me. That being said, my new housemates have certainly lightened the load, of which I'm certainly grateful. It does leave me more time to pursue other endeavours after all.

Having just spent the last hour or so practising my sword forms in my dojo, I realise with a start that it's almost noon. I hastily put away my things and head back to the house to prepare lunch. At the moment, only Saber and I are at home, but given how Saber has the appetite of a lion, I need to be sure to satisfy her hunger if I want to avoid her wrath.

As I walk into the living room, I notice that Saber is sat quietly at the table, engrossed in a glossy magazine. Honestly, I'm shocked to see her reading something like that- she's not particularly averse to reading, but she isn't overly interested in it either. Furthermore, I would have expected her to be reading something more educational… like a book on modern battle strategies or something.

Yet here she is, eyes glued to the pages before her, seemingly as if they hold something of great importance. I would be lying if I said my interest wasn't piqued, but I wouldn't want to interrupt her right now. So instead, I'll just slip past her quietly, straight to the kitc-

I almost make it, but her eyes flick up just as I'm about to round the kitchen counter.

"Shirou," she says, with a nod. "Your timing is perfect."

"Eh? For what?"

There's a strange glint in her eyes, an eagerness bordering on fanaticism. Before her unwavering gaze, I feel a distinct sense of unease, as if a ravenous predator has settled on me as its next hapless victim.

Saber raises the magazine so that I can see it. The page she's turned to is dominated by a colourful banner headline and a series of pictures of expertly presented foods.

"This… _magazine_ has been most informative," she says approvingly. "But there's one thing it doesn't express very well. What exactly does Foie gras taste like, Shirou?"

"...Foie Gras?"

"Yes, that. But also... Beef Wellington, truffles, Peking duck, Kobe beef, pufferfish, blue-fin tuna, caviar, soft-shelled turtle-"

I wave my hands frantically to stop her ramblings. "Woah woah, hold on a sec Saber. What's got into you all of a sudden?"

By way of answer, she closes the magazine and shows me the cover. It reads: 'High-class foods you have to try once'.

"...I don't remember buying that," I mutter.

"Taiga left it here some time ago," Saber explains.

_Tsk, trust that good-for-nothing guardian of mine to leave something like that where Saber might see it._

"The culinary arts have come a long way since I was alive. There are so many new foods, yet, if this article is anything to go by, these foods stand head and shoulders above them. If that's so, then they must truly be… divine." The look in Saber's eyes grows even more intense. "Shirou, I ask- no, I implore you, as your loyal Servant… I must make use of the opportunity the Grail has granted me. Please grant me this gift!"

Between her earnest request and her puppy-dog eyes, I almost give in immediately. A single thought allows me to cling on to the last scraps of my resolve: the price tag of each and every one of the items that she listed. Buying any one of them would take a significant chunk out of our monthly food budget. And I doubt that Saber would be satisfied with that. If I give ground even once, it'll prove to be a slippery slope.

What a horrible predicament. Either I disappoint Saber, or I give her what she wants and we put ourselves on strict rations to make up for it. Silently, I curse that glossy magazine for putting me in this situation. It's brought nothing but misfortune to our home.

_That thing… is pure evil._

An aspiring Hero of Justice cannot remain idle while evil runs amok. I know now what I must do, even if my stomach churns at the thought of it.

"Saber… please hand over the magazine." I say, my voice deadly calm.

Saber's expression turns to one of wariness. "May I ask why?"

I say nothing, but maybe she detects something in my eyes or my body language. After having fought together many times, she's gotten very familiar with how I act when I'm serious. I'm sure she can tell my intentions before even I know them- her instincts have always been one of her strongest tools after all. Whatever she sees, she stiffens as she finds the answer she asked for. Then, she bolts.

It's so unexpected that I hesitate for about a second. It's more than enough time for her to escape past me into the hallway.

"Damn it. Saber!" Left with no other choice, I run after her. "Come back here!"

"I regretfully say that I cannot comply, Shirou," she wails back. "I'm sorry!"

If this was an action movie, then the next fifteen minutes would make for a great epic chase scene. Saber, who was a great tactician in her lifetime, uses every trick in the book to try and keep ahead of me. Taking advantage of her superior agility and combat experience, she creates distance between us, moving objects to block my path, or faking me out and moving in unpredictable ways. My only boon is that she isn't using her heroic abilities against me. For the millionth time, I thank my foresight for asking her and Rider to not utilise their superhuman attributes inside the house. If I hadn't, who knows what damage my home would have experienced over the last six months. If she was to use her full speed, I would never be able to catch her, but as she is right now, she's no faster than your average young woman.

Even so, the chase is far from easy. I regret to say that, despite my rigorous physical training, I'm soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. But I finally see a way to bring the chase to an end. As we turn around another corner, we both end up in a long corridor at the back of the house. As Saber runs ahead of me, I snatch up a mop that I'd thoughtlessly left here when I was cleaning earlier. Still running, I take aim, flinging the mop before me like a javelin. It arcs through the air perfectly, tripping the fleeing Servant, who struggles to rise. But the sheen of water beneath her denies her purchase on the wooden floors and I pounce towards her. In desperation, she throws herself to one side, through the open door and out into the yard.

I snatch up the mop and dive after her. Saber is on the ground, having fallen awkwardly from the veranda. My eyes lock on to the magazine, which has slipped from her grip and now lies on the ground.

Without hesitation, I strike.

"Hyah!"

Wielding my mop like a spear, I drive the handle through the flimsy paper and into the dirt. Again and again. After twenty-eight strikes, there is almost nothing left of the ruinous script.

Justice has dealt its hand. Never again will this thing corrupt the minds of the innocent.

"What have you done?" Saber sobs. She stares aghast at the scraps that are left.

_What I had to do._

Cowardice prevents me from saying the words aloud. I can only watch as Saber mourns the loss of her hopes and dreams. I glance one last time at the scraps of the magazine. Maybe what I did was a little extreme after all.

My roving eyes latch onto a small bit of parchment, the only part that survived my attack. Amazingly, there's still a small portion of text that's legible.

_-It's a common misconception that the only way to get high-quality produce is to buy it at extortionate prices. But what if I told you that there was a much better (and cheaper) way to get a hold of high-quality ingredients?_

_One of the main things that make ingredients excellent, is how fresh they are. And there's no better way to ensure freshness than to produce them yourself. With a little time and care, you can create your own vegetable garden and grow produce that rivals anything used in high-class restaurants-_

"...Home-grown produce, huh?" I murmur. I glance around the spacious yard, which is pretty much unoccupied, excluding the shrubbery. "That's not a bad idea."

Saber looks up finally, her face a blank mask as she digests my words. "Home-grown…?" she says, perking up somewhat.

"Yeah. Since I only work part-time, I can't afford all the high-class foods you were reading about earlier. Even if I could get a hold of the ingredients, I have no experience cooking with them," I explain. "Maybe as a special occasion, I could treat you to a meal from a classy restaurant, but taking everyone else would be too expensive. However, there's no reason we couldn't cultivate some of the ingredients ourselves. There's enough space here that I could set some aside for you if you'd be interested in something like that."

"I see…" Saber says quietly. "In exchange for doing a significant portion of the labour, I would be able to offset the cost of the ingredients. And since I am currently relying on you for financial support due to my current situation, it would serve to ease your burden..."

"Yeah," I agree. "Who knows, it might even become a new hobby of yours."

Saber nods. "I am sure it won't be easy, but I look forward to it." Her eyes glisten as she surveys the yard, no doubt envisioning the results of her future work. "Perhaps I can even have some livestock after a while? Chickens- no geese! Or maybe even some pigs… according to the magazine, only sows can find truffles underground…"

"No animals!" I bark. Saber deflates, so I relent just a little bit. "For now, let's just stick with the vegetable garden. If that goes well, we can talk about the livestock another time, okay?"

A gentle smile graces Saber's face. "That sounds like a good compromise. Thank you, Shirou."

"You're welcome. Now, I should get back to making lunch," I say, turning back to the house. "I'll need to go out for a while afterwards. Can you hold the fort while I'm gone?"

"Of course."

And with that, I step into my domain- and by that, I mean the kitchen- to rustle up our midday meal.

* * *

October 9th - 2nd day Noon

Around an hour later, I bid goodbye to Saber and set off. Yesterday, I decided that I wanted to confer with the other Servants about the state of things, so the plan is to try and track one of them down for a serious discussion.

For now, I've decided that Lancer is the one I'd like to speak to today. It would be a lot easier to go up to Ryuudou Temple, where I could speak to Caster and Assassin, but… Caster and I don't mesh very well. She can be a little standoffish and condescending and- well, basically I have no idea if she'd actually be willing to help me.

Lancer, on the other hand, is a lot easier to get along with. He's free-spirited, mainly due to his background as an old Irish hero. Back in his day, people lived their lives in the moment. In those tumultuous times, you could be friends with someone one day, then enemies the next. Of course, this drastically changed how people went about their daily lives and how they treated others. Since the fighting stopped, Lancer has become much warmer to the other participants, myself included. Even if he doesn't consider me a friend, our relationship is cordial enough that he might at least consider giving me some answers, if he is able to.

There's one other reason I want to speak to Lancer specifically. Normally, in order for a Servant to maintain its presence in this world, they need the energy provided by the Holy Grail, as well as a Master to anchor them here. Or, if the Master is a strong enough magus, they can supply their Servant with energy without the support of the Grail. Caster is a bit of an unusual case- she has a Master to anchor her, but as he is not a magus, she receives her supply of energy by leeching off the leylines that converge beneath the temple. However, Lancer, unlike most of the other Servants, has been able to stay here with neither a Master nor an alternate source of energy. He is an oddity, sharing circumstances with only one other Servant, who is even more out of place. If any of the Servants have the right to question their situation, it would be him. Hopefully, he's had the time to work something out.

Before I can speak with him though, I'll have to find where he is, which is easier said than done. If it was anyone else, I'd pick up the phone and give him a call so we could agree to meet up somewhere. But unfortunately, the Servants are a little behind the times and none of them actually possess mobile phones, so I'm going to have to do this the hard way. If I visit all the places that Lancer frequents, I'll find him soon enough.

For context, Fuyuki City is divided down the middle by the River Mion, resulting in two separate towns. On the western side of the river is Miyama Town- a suburban area filled with older buildings. It can be further split into two parts, with the traditional Japanese housing district in the north and the foreigners' housing district in the south. Sakura, Rin and I all live and attend school on this side of the river. Aside from that, Miyama Town is also home to the Mount Miyama shopping district, which is primarily made up of small businesses.

On the east side of the river, stands the modern Shinto. It possesses a large commercial district, which is made up of much larger businesses than those in Mount Miyama. Shinto is home to Fuyuki's largest shopping centre, Verde and the train station, among other places.

My first stop is the shopping district here in Miyama Town, as last I heard, Lancer was working at a flower shop there. With any luck, he'll be there right now.

_If only I could be so lucky_.

* * *

"Damn," I curse. "Should've known it wouldn't be that easy."

After spending almost an hour searching, I haven't managed to catch sight of Lancer yet. Either my luck is just bad, or he's not here. I'm almost at the point of throwing in the towel, but that would mean going home empty-handed. No… I won't stand for that. I can't go home until I've got something to show for my time.

Before I realise it, my feet are already moving, carrying me to my next destination. I quickly leave the shopping district behind and emerge into a wide paved area, filled with shrubbery and benches. Ahead, a crimson dragon looms. Fuyuki bridge… a hulking structure of steel which spans the river and connects the two halves of the city. I walk the long pedestrian walkway, cars zooming past beside and above me, on the double-decker roads. Even though it's the middle of the day, there are very few people walking this way. Most would take the bus or the train to get to the neighbouring town, so the bridge is rarely used. I guess it's because a bridge this long brings with it the fear that it might collapse on you.

I'm not scared of heights or anything… but I hurry across regardless.

I heave a sigh of relief as I reach the other side and head into the suburbs. When I think of Shinto, the image of great structures of glass and steel comes to mind, but I always forget that there are older streets too, once you get away from the station. I leave those fancy office buildings behind as I head towards the mouth of the river, the scent of the ocean growing stronger with each step, until…

Roiling waves encompass my vision. A few scant building stand at my back- large warehouses meant to house/hold the goods that the freighters bring to shore. The soft ocean breeze carries with it the harsh screeches of seagulls… and surprisingly, the cries of a large crowd. The ordinarily serene docks are bustling in the way that's only seen during festivals!

"Woah, look at that! You're amazing, Gil!"

"Yeah! Look at how many fish you've caught! Unlike those other guys…"

"Whatcha expect? Gil's equipment is _way_ better than their, there's no way they can beat him!"

A group of young kids surround a golden-haired man, who seems all too willing to bask in their praise.

"Mongrels! You state the obvious like it's something to be proud of. It is only natural that they are inferior to me!" the man exclaims. He opens his arms wide, a grand gesture more suitable for a king than a youth dressed in casual attire. "Make sure to keep your voices down though, or you'll bother the losers around you."

…_Says the man making no effort to keep his voice down._

The man nearest him bristles at the comment, glowering from underneath his red peaked cap. His bare arms bulge as he starts to reel in a fish on his own rod. Despite his distinctly Asian features, his tanned skin suggests that he is a man who has stepped foot in many far-off lands.

"Hmph. One rod isn't enough for you, I see," he says. "And all of them as pricey as they come too. It's sad to see that the King of Heroes is so low as to stoop to such tactics. A real man does not rely on tools to get a job done."

Across the pier, a long-haired man in a Hawaiian shirt mutters to himself. "You can hardly talk, _white hair_. Your rod is still as good as any other. Ain't no way I'll be missing that fancy auto-reel neither…"

Unaware of the blue-haired man's mutterings, the two men continue to jibe at each other.

_Well, what do you know? I came looking for one Servant and instead I found three. Talk about luck._

It might be worth having a word with the other two while I'm here, but for now, I'll focus on the one I came to see. I walk towards the man in the Hawaiian shirt. He doesn't react act first, though it's not because he hasn't noticed me- his senses are too sharp to miss the sounds of my approach. Rather, it seems that he is in a state of meditation, exuding a zen-like air unsuited for him, with his gangster-ish appearance.

"Hey, Lancer. How's the ocean treating you?"

The man finally spares one quick glance at me, then turns back. "Not bad at all," he answers. "It's slow goin', but the fish don't stop coming. I'm gonna need another bucket 'fore long."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought there'd be that many so close to shore."

"Nah, there's plenty if ya know what you're doing," Lancer answers dismissively. He glances over his shoulder. "I'd have a much easier time without the extra company, though."

"Oh? Are you saying you can't handle a little competition, Lancer?" says the man in red. "Is Ireland's hound all talk after all? Maybe you should use your lance to spear the fish instead. You might actually come close to matching me then."

"How about ya just leave instead, Archer?" Lancer growls. "Give back my peace and quiet, you bastard."

"Hah! Peace is overrated!" the golden-haired man interjects. "Back in my day, we held such lavish feasts, the likes of which you mongrels couldn't even begin to imagine! Revelry like that is far greater than your treasured _serenity_."

"And yet, Gilgamesh, you are here with the rest of us, fishing like any other commoner," Archer says. "Oh how far the mighty king has fallen."

Gil's face twists into a sneer. "Care to say that again, you filthy maggot?"

"Why should I? You heard me well enough the first time."

The air becomes still, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop in the silence. Even though the temperature is fairly mild, I shiver uncontrollably. Gil's hand twitches, as if itching to reach for a weapon- an action which Archer mirrors. At this rate, we're all going to get caught up in a fight between arguably the strongest Servant and one of the only people who can even hope to fight on his level.

_Damn it, I've got to do something. Come on, think! What can I do to stop this? Quickly, before it's too late._

I wrack my brains for ideas, but nothing suitable comes to hell with it! Anything is better than doing nothing.

I push aside the thought of how I might actually escalate the situation if I make even the slightest mistake and step forward. But just as I do…

One of the children tugs on Gil's sleeve. "Hey, Gil. What was the old guy saying about you being a king? Are you like, royalty or something?"

The enraged demi-god turns his frigid stare on the small boy. It seems that in their childish innocence, the children have failed to pick up on the tense atmosphere. As Gil glares daggers at the kid, I brace myself for the possibility of him acting out of anger and prepare to interpose myself between the two of them.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," another boy adds. "Are you really a king, Gil? That's so cool!"

"So awesome!"

"As expected of the boss!"

A chorus of impressed cries comes from all around. It was clear before that the kids idolised the Servant, for some reason I can't quite understand, but now their admiration has ascended to a whole new level. Before my very eyes, Gil's countenance relaxes, returning to his normal arrogant sneer.

"Of course I am, you brats," he belts. "I shouldn't even have to tell you! My kingly presence alone should be enough for you to realise the truth. And one such as me is above the barking of dogs…"

I breathe a sigh of relief. We came very close to a disaster there. I glare at Archer pointedly, both blaming him for our near miss and also begging him not to repeat his offence. Whether or not he notices my look, I don't know, but hopefully he's come to the right conclusion anyway.

Turning back to Lancer, I notice that he's still in the same position that he was earlier, supposedly unfazed. Yet, I don't miss the fact that his hands ease their grip on his fishing rod.

Feeling the weight of my gaze, Lancer turns his head just enough to look at me, then sighs. "C'mon kid, let's be out with it," he says. "I know well enough that ya didn't come out all this way just ta ask me about my fishing."

I'm a little taken aback by his abruptness, but it is to be expected from a Servant, after all. After seeing how well Lancer has managed to adapt to town life, I guess I'd forgotten that he could be so perceptive.

"Well, you're right there. I wanted to have a serious talk with all the Servants, but since you're busy, I'll try to keep it short and to the point," I say. "Lancer. What do you think about the current situation right now? Or, I guess what I really want to ask is, why are you still here?"

"Because I've got a contract with a Master, of course. It's not like I have a way of existing here without a Master, ya know."

"But your Master-"

"Is currently six feet under, I'm well aware. A contract normally becomes void when a Master dies, but… it's still there. I can still feel _something_ keeping me alive, but I don't know what. I don't like not knowing why, but at the end of the day, I figure it's easier not to question it. Ain't much point worryin' about why you're alive, you get me? Just make use of the time you've got left."

Geez, I should have expected as much from him. He already knows things are abnormal. But still, he just does whatever he wants, everyone else be damned. The world would be a much simpler place if everyone was so laid back.

"I guess… but are you really cool with not knowing? Isn't it worth looking into at least?" I ask.

"Of course it is," Archer interrupts. "But Lancer is the least likely to actually do anything about it."

"Eh, you're sure having fun listenin' to other people's conversations today, ain't ya?" Lancer retorts. "As much as I hate to say this though, he's right. As long as my Master doesn't come knocking, I'll be living my life my own way."

"Is the same true with the war as well?"

"Yeah. I guess you're worried I'll start picking a fight with everyone, huh? Don't worry about it, I'll be staying neutral. Unless someone comes after me first."

A very strange assurance from one of the most warlike Servants, but as I said before, he's adjusted a lot better to town life than the other Servants. I guess that means he's content with his new life.

"What about you, Archer?" I ask.

"I have no interest in fighting the other Servants," he answers. "Not that I should even have to tell you. You know my reasons for fighting, after all."

"I'm glad to hear it," I say. The children run past me, clutching a small amount of money in their small hands. "It'd be great if we can keep the peace, so please, if the three of you can refrain from fighting while we work out what's going on, I would appreciate it."

"Hah, you are presumptuous indeed if you think you can make requests of a king," Gil declares as he joins us. "But as it happens, I am feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky that I don't feel like obliterating you at the moment."

I take a step back, putting just a little more distance between myself and the volatile Servant. "And of course I am eternally grateful. You are a most benevolent ruler indeed. Now, I must beg my leave."

The king nods and I turn away. It's time to make a hasty retreat. After a few seconds, I sidestep out of habit. At that exact moment, a blade streaks through the space I'd just vacated and skitters along the ground before coming to a stop.

I turn back and look at the one responsible with a raised eyebrow.

"Damn it. I was really hoping it would work that time," Archer sighs. "But I guess you won't be taken off guard so easily any more."

"Are you ever going to stop taking potshots at me?" I ask drily.

"Don't count on it. I haven't given up on trying to kill you just yet," he answers.

"Feel free to keep trying. Each attempt makes me stronger," I retort. "At this rate, it won't be long before my skills surpass yours."

"Heh, I doubt that. One lifetime alone wouldn't be enough for you to even come close," he sneers. "But… maybe that wouldn't be so bad. You might just be able to avoid making the same mistakes that I did."

* * *

_A desolate plain marred by endless battles. Countless bodies litter the ground, as numerous as a forest of fallen leaves. So many lives cut short, yet it is all the handiwork of one man. The perpetrator stands among them, the life essence of his foes dripping from the blades in his hands. _

_In pursuing his vision of paradise, he has betrayed his ideals time and again, bringing suffering to those he strived to protect. Both the innocent and the guilty have bled in the name of the greater good._

_Once more, the lone warrior bids his foes farewell and marks their graves with swords of his own making. In the distance, the peals of striking hammers ring out. The recesses of his mind are forging yet another arsenal of weapons in anticipation of the next battle. As always, it will come all too soon._

_Many more must fall for his dream to be realised. An unlimited number, to be precise, as his task shall never end. So the gyrating gears drive ever onwards, the smog they generate clouding his very thoughts. As much as he wants them to stop their ceaseless turning, he knows that it would mean the end of his dream. This world would lose all meaning and the foundation on which he had built his life would collapse from under him._

_He knew at the heart of him that this was his purpose as much as it was the purpose of this place. __Like him, this world was designed for this and this alone. For this world is-_

* * *

The vision flashes before my eyes in an instant, but its significance is not lost on me. That hill of swords was where Archer ended up after pursuing his dreams. In the end, he felt betrayed by his ideals and was broken by it. If I continue to follow this path, it's not entirely impossible that I'll end up there too.

"'Might?'" I ask. "There's no 'might' about it. I _will _become a true Hero of Justice. For everyone."

"Oh, do you already have an inflated sense of self-worth? Then here's a little bit of wisdom for you: there's nothing wrong with being prideful, but a hero also needs a healthy dose of humility too."

"Pride has nothing to do with it. It's the truth, plain and simple," I say. "But I'll try to remember that anyway."

Archer looks at me a moment, then nods. "Make sure you do. Never forget your roots and the things that brought you here. If you can hold on to that, you will stand more of a chance than I did."

Archer and I are fundamentally different. I am just starting down this long road, while he reached the end long ago. The things he saw changed him, made him someone else entirely. But still…

In some ways, we are so alike.

* * *

By the time I make it back home, the sun has long begun its descent towards the horizon. What should have been a quick trip took most of the day. Already I'm dreading what I might find when I step through my front door.

Filled with trepidation, I call out as I step into the entryway. To my surprise, I'm not instantly rushed by an angry Servant. Walking down the short stretch of corridor, I enter the living room.

"Saber?" I call out.

The room is empty- yet another shocking twist. Normally Saber would be waiting for me whenever I get back from somewhere. Plus, considering what we'd discussed yesterday, I would have thought she'd be worried- and angry- about me returning later than I'd said I would, without prior notice.

So if she wasn't there to greet me at the door, nor waiting in the living room, where could she be? Only one place comes to mind. My feet carry me in the direction of the dojo, one of Saber's favourite places to relax. Within moments, I'm standing outside the dojo. I hesitate a moment, but steady my nerves and step inside.

The dojo is a space built solely for training one's self. This one wooden-floored room contains nothing but the bare necessities, in order to avoid distractions.

In this tranquil place, Saber rests, sitting on the floor seiza-style. The faint sunlight peering through the windows basks her in a golden glow.

The sight is… nostalgic. It reminds me strongly of when we first met. When she first appeared in my shed, clad in her full battle attire, she looked so otherworldly that she took my breath away. She was power, beauty and grace all rolled into one small package. Throughout the course of the war, we fought together and bled together.

Over the last six months, I've had the privilege of seeing a drastically different side of her- the true face of the young woman, Artoria and not the mask she wore in life. I've witnessed the sheer joy she exhibits every time she eats a well-cooked meal, the way her countenance has softened over time and I've become well accustomed to seeing her fresh out of the bath in the evenings. She is so much more… _human_ now, compared to how she used to be.

And I'm just as captivated by her now as I've ever been.

I would be content to watch her like this for a thousand lifetimes. But even as I continue to stare, she opens her eyes and brings this perfect moment to a close.

Saber graces me with a gentle smile. "Welcome back, Shirou."

"...Ah. I'm back."

It seems my brain is lagging behind a little. My words are both delayed and laced with a tone of disappointment, but Saber doesn't seem to notice. In fact, that smile is still fixed on her face.

Wait… thinking about it, her expression seems a little stiff. There's also one minor detail I failed to notice earlier: she's loosely holding a shinai in her right hand. She stands smoothly and steps close- a little too close. Her knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on her shinai and she tilts her head to one side, her expression chilling to the bone.

I realise too late that her air of calm was merely a facade. Oh, why me?

"Sorry, I ended up taking longer than I expected," I apologise. "But if it's any consolation, I picked up something good for dinner on my way back."

Saber's eyes latch on to the shopping bag in my hand. She stares so intently that I'm sure she's trying to tear a hole right through the bag with her look alone to try and see what's inside. After several tense seconds, however, she relents and relaxes her tense stance. Fortunately for me, it looks like her curiosity- or her hunger- outweighs her anger.

"I see. You had the foresight to secure our meal, then?" she asks. "Very well, I will forgive your lateness under the circumstances."

And so, for the second time today, I receive the forgiveness of a king.

"Thanks, Saber. Now, how about I go and show you what I brought you?"

Saber nods and we head back to the main building. As we enter the living room, Saber goes to sit at the table, while I drop today's spoils down on the kitchen counter.

"So, Shirou. As head chef, what is on the menu be today?" Saber asks.

I chuckle in response. "It's a surprise. You will find out when I'm done, so don't look over here until then, alright?"

Saber pouts, but does as I ask and averts her eyes. Without further ado, I start to take the ingredients out of the bag, keeping one eye on Saber to make sure she doesn't peek. When I'm finally satisfied that everything is ready to go, I grab a knife and chopping board and go to cut the first of the ingredients-

All of a sudden, the bounded field screams out a warning. Rather than the usual gentle ripple at a single point, it shudders violently across its entire area. Then, it hits me- a cascading wave of magical energy as immense as the sky. It surges through me in a flash, chilling my very bones. An instant is all it takes to pass, but I'm left shivering all the same. I push myself up off the floor, the manically chiming bells in the rafters only serving to worsen the rapidly building pain in my head.

"Shirou, are you alright?"

My concerned Servant helps me to my feet. Even in my daze, I immediately notice she's materialised her armour. At her hip, the air flickers and distorts, a sure sign that her blade is at the ready too, albeit in a non-visible form.

"I'm fine," I reply. "But more importantly, we need to find out what that was. Let's go check for intruders."

"No, Shirou. You should stay here, where it's safe," Saber argues. "I will check the perimeter. If there are any undesirables around, I will deal with them."

"But…"

I want to argue back, but what she says makes sense. As much as my combat skills have improved in recent months, Saber is still leagues above me. If it comes down to combat, there's little I'll be able to do to help her, especially considering that I'm still suffering from the after-effects of that magic wave.

On the other hand, if I stay out of her way, I can try and 'listen out' for any foreign energies, as it were. I'm not particularly skilled in magical detection, but I six months of lessons from Rin has certainly helped me in this department.

I give Saber the go-ahead and she disappears from sight. I'm not one to let others work while I take it easy, so I get to my own searching, even if I'm not so active about it.

I settle myself down at the table and focus my mind, blocking out all distractions. Then, I feel out with my senses, combing the area for any traces of magic. The ever-present bounded field hums in the background and the massive beacon of power that is Saber dashes around in the yard outside. But other than that, I can't detect anything significant. Except for… I'm not sure how to describe it. A faint feeling of unease, I guess? Like something is out of place. As weird as that out-of-the-ordinary sensation is though, it doesn't give me anything to go on. I guess for now, all I can do is leave it to Saber to carry out her search.

Out in the hallway, the phone starts to ring. Is it a coincidence that it's going off now, or is there something more to it? Either way, I should check it out. Cautiously, mind you.

Before I step out into the hallway, I stick my head out to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied that there's nobody about to jump me the moment I enter the room, I go to pick up the phone.

"...Emiya residence, Shirou speaking."

"_Emiya-sama. Milady would like to speak to you."_

A woman's voice. Her tone is cool and professional, but also one I recognise.

"Sella? What's-"

In the background, I vaguely hear another voice that sounds familiar. Sella says something in response, but her voice becomes too quiet for me to make out. I don't think the connection is bad- rather, I think she's just lowered the receiver and the microphone just isn't sensitive enough to hear her anymore. Really, could she not have at least greeted me properly before completely dismissing me?

My mental grumbling is interrupted by a burst of garbled noises, then a new voice greets me.

"_Hello, Onii-chan."_

"Illya?" I almost drop the phone in shock. "Is that really you?"

"_Why so surprised, Shirou? Is it really so strange for a young lady to want to talk to her brother?"_

"Not at all," I answer. "It's just that I didn't think you'd be one to use technology like this."

"_Ordinarily you'd be right. I wanted to get through to you quickly and Sella offered to operate this device for me. More importantly... you felt it, right?"_

"...You felt it too?" I asked, alarmed. "Damn it, I thought maybe a magus was just trying to pick a fight with us or something. But if you felt it over there too, there must be more to it than that. Listen, I think it would be best for you to come and stay with us for a while. You're too isolated out there in your castle. If anyone wanted to hurt you, you'll only have Sella and Liz to protect you."

"_...Hehe, it makes me happy to hear that you're worried about me. Thank you for the offer, but it's not necessary. Besides, nowhere will be safe from what's to come."_

"What does that- do you know something about what's going on?"

"_Unfortunately, yes. I had hoped this wouldn't come to pass, but it seems we are not that fortunate. Be prepared for the unexpected, Shirou. And try not to get lost in what's about to come."_

The line goes dead.

"...Illya?" Only the harsh drone of the disconnect tone is there to answer me. "What the hell? You can't just say something like that and then hang up!"

I try to ring her back, but the phone just keeps ringing. It's clear that she's not intending to pick up. I've half a mind to pay her a visit and find out what she knows, but I also know she won't tell me anything that she doesn't want to.

I resignedly drop the phone back onto its cradle and return to the living room. As I sit there contemplating Illya's cryptic words, Saber returns.

"Shirou. I wasn't able to detect any intruders, nor anything that would indicate the work of a magus."

I'm not surprised. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.

"...I see. I was afraid that would be the case," I say. "While you were outside, Illya called. And she said some very worrying things."

I tell Saber about my conversation with Illya. As we were speaking for no more than a few minutes, it doesn't take very long to tell the story.

Saber purses her lips as she mulls over my words. "I am not one to say this often, but I must say, I am baffled by Illyasviel's behaviour. It is clear that she meant to warn you about some upcoming event that she is anticipating, yet to provide so little detail is rather odd in itself."

"Yes," I reply. "It's almost like even she doesn't know what's going to happen. Or maybe she's worried that by telling me, it'll make things worse somehow?"

"Hmm, yes. I can definitely see why that might be the case. After all, you do have a tendency to throw yourself into dangerous situations with little thought on the potential consequences."

"Hey, I always have a good reason for that," I counter. "I may be reckless at times, but I never risk my life unless it's for the sake of someone else."

"A fair point. Your care for others is most admirable and certainly one of your greatest features."

"I-I…" I fail to stammer out a response as my face begins to heat. A faint ghost of a smile graces Saber's face, which makes me think that might have been her way of trying to tease me. Looks like someone has been spending a little too much time with Rin, I think.

The silence stretches out between us. The obnoxious ticking of the wall clock becomes extremely obvious. I glance at its face, a thought coming to mind.

"Hey Saber… speaking of caring about others," I start. "With everything that's happened today, I don't think I'll be able to go to sleep without doing what I can to make sure everyone is safe. I know it's been a while since we've done this but… I'd like to go patrolling tonight. Will you join me?"

And without hesitation, my Servant answers.

"Of course, Shirou."

"...Thank you, Saber."

My gratitude towards her is unending. For whenever I feel I am not strong enough, she is always there to prop me up. Maybe one day I will be able to repay the kindness she has shown me.

"Okay then. We'll leave in a few hours then, when its fully dark out," I say.

Saber nods in agreement, sealing our arrangement. I put away the discarded ingredients and make something quick instead, then excuse myself for the time being. Before we venture out into the night, I have some preparations to make. Sure, there's a chance we won't encounter anything tonight, but on the off-chance that we do, the last thing I want is to be caught off-guard.

Therefore, I will give this my all. Because something is happening in my city… and I'll be damned if I don't do something about it.

* * *

**Welcome back for chapter 2 of The Faker's Trials. I'd like to give a personal thank you for choosing to carry on reading this after the first chapter. And I'm sorry for making this another slice-of-life style upload, I know you were probably hoping for something a little more substantial. Don't worry though! We'll get there soon enough. I'm trying to build the scenario and suspense in these earlier chapters before I dive into the main part of the story, but with the way I've planned this out, chapter 3 will be quite a bit more interesting and chapter 4 will be where things really start to kick off. Hopefully you guys can bear with me until then.**  
**(I should also mention that this took me a little longer to write because I started watching My Hero Academia while I was writing this. Started it on a whim, but it turned out to be an awesome series so I kinda binge-watched it and then got very sad when I hit the last episode. But then I found out that season 4 was starting two weeks later, ie five days ago, so that didn't last long. Anyway, tangent aside, chapter 3 will probably be a similar length to this one, so will probably take around the same length of time to write. Maybe even slightly less considering I'm limited to one episode of MHA a week now.)**

**Also, thank you so much to everyone who chose to leave a review or message me with feedback/advice. You guys are awesome and your messages were a big help. I even had a few messages that were in Spanish... I'm not sure how you guys managed to read this (maybe running it through a translator?) but I'm glad to see it caught your interest too.**  
**While I'm talking about advice, I have yet another question I'm hoping you guys can help me with. How skilled is Shirou at magical detection? I know he's not particularly good at it in the VN, but I kinda remember him being a little sensitive to magic I think? Like he can sense magic as varying smells or something. I kinda came up with the excuse of Shirou having received some training from Rin to explain his magical detection towards the end of this chapter, but if this is unrealistic, please let me know.**

**I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but I am going to be looking for a beta reader for this story, or maybe even more than one depending on how much you guys want to see more of this. To be honest, while I've been writing this story, I've actually been talking to a couple of my friends about my various ideas, but unfortunately, neither of my friends are familiar with Fate SN and only one of them knows anything about the Percy Jackson books. If anyone would be interested in helping me with this story, feel free to drop a review or a private message to express your interest. Whether you want to proofread my writing before I upload, or just be someone I can spitball ideas with, any help would be appreciated.**

**Finally, I'd like to say a huge thank you for everyone who's chosen to favourite and follow this story so far. In barely a week, this story managed to break 100 followers. That may not sound like an awful lot, but for context, my Fairy Tail fanfic took 7.5 months, 12 chapters and an awful lot of lost brain cells just to get over 200 followers. So thanks for both making my week and blowing my mind.**

**Other than that, I don't think I really have anything else to talk about? Knowing me though, I'll remember something as soon as I upload this chapter- I'm such an airhead sometimes. So, let me know what you guys thought of this chapter. Did you like it, or did you hate it? I can't wait to hear your thoughts. For now, this is me signing off, so I'll (hopefully) see you soon with chapter 3. Bye.**

* * *

_Edited on 24/12/19: Noticed I'd left some author's notes in after missing them in editing... OMG that's embarrassing. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody mentioned it though._


	3. Chapter 3

October 10th - 3rd day Noon

I imagine that most teens who find themselves blessed with a long weekend would go out and make the most of their time off school. They'd probably hang out with their friends and go shopping or visit an arcade, making the most of their youth.

Me? I decided to visit a temple.

Instead of frolicking innocently about town, I'm traipsing up the side of Mount Miyama, ascending the many flights of stairs that lead up to Ryudouu Temple. The path seems to stretch on for an awfully long time- which it does- but the shadows cast by the dense trees on either side only compound the effect. An autumnal breeze blows against my back, an early sign of the turning weather. A few crisp leaves tumble down and join the ragged blanket atop the steps, making my footing rather uncertain. The thin veneer of sweat on my forehead, despite the cold, is a testament to how far I've come and how little a distance there is left to traverse.

_If someone like me finds it this hard, how are the elderly supposed to visit the temple?_

The thought flits across my mind for but a moment, but just as I start to consider the pros and cons of adding a stairlift for the less able, the temple gates come into view.

I reach the top of the stairs and step through the open gate. As I do, a presence makes itself known, with a chilling aura as sharp as a bared blade. I do not see the one responsible for that aura, but the meaning behind that intent is clear: 'step lightly if you want to avoid an untimely demise'.

_Don't worry, I have no intentions of causing trouble._

Though that shadowy figure has no way of sensing my thoughts, the presence retreats as the assurance echoes inside my head. But only for a short distance, mind you. The concealed Servant, Assassin, can cross that distance in a mere second should I show any signs of hostility to his Master.

Having issued the warning, Assassin lets me pass undisturbed into the temple grounds. Crossing the open paved courtyard, I approach the sprawling Buddhist temple laid before me. As I do, a figure steps out of the shadows cast by the entrance and pauses by the steps, before calling out to me once I'm close enough.

"You're early, Emiya," greets the son of the head monk. "Not that I'm surprised by that in the slightest."

"I would hope not, Issei. I _did_ say I was going to bring some supplies for the training camp, after all," I reply. "Or did you forget?"

The young man looks pointedly at the bags in my hands and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Of course not. But even so, you're even earlier than need be. You know, there _is_ such a thing as being too diligent- you really should try to take some time off once in a while."

"Eh? I don't think you can lecture me about taking things easy, _student council president_."

Issei Ryudouu manages to look a little sheepish as I hop up the few steps to join him. "I suppose you have a point. But if I don't properly take care of my duties, it'll just be left to someone else to pick up the slack."

"I know, I know. You don't have much choice there, especially with your temple work. But you really should look at finding a decent replacement. Someone will need to take over your role when you leave, so you need to find one quickly, before the stress gives your VP a stroke."

"Trust me, the moment I find someone who I feel is competent enough to handle the position, I will be doing whatever I can to bring them in," Issei assures me. "It's just a matter of finding someone who I feel is up to it."

I can't help but feel that the problem that Issei is facing is the result of him being too picky. He's a stickler for following the rules and spends every waking moment acting as an upright member of society. Both his mannerisms and his personality embody what it means to be the perfect student council president. Consequently, it's become next to impossible to find a replacement who's up to Issei's standards.

The strained council president sighs. "But I'm forgetting myself. It's rude of a host to make a guest stand outside, after all. Let's go and drop off the supplies first, then I'll make some tea."

"It's not like I'm a normal guest, Issei. There's no need to stand on ceremony," I chastise. Even so, I smile and follow him through the hallways towards the kitchen.

We walk together in companionable silence as we head over to the kitchen. Even though I've been here many times before, the similarities between this place and my home strike me. The only real difference would be that the temple is a lot more open. Also, it was designed to last a lot longer, meaning that while it's built in the traditional Japanese style, the proportion of wood to other building materials is a lot higher. Regular polishing has darkened the wood to such a degree that the interior of the building is rather dim.

The corridors are mostly empty, but we do meet the occasional monk on the way. As is usual, we incline our heads in a wordless greeting each time we pass one, to which the monks respond in kind. It's as we pass one of these monks that Issei finally speaks up.

"So, since I got distracted before," he starts. "Why _did_ you come so early?"

"Ah, I was hoping to catch Kuzuki-sensei," I reply.

Issei seems taken aback by my answer. "Kuzuki-sensei?"

"That would be me."

Issei and I both jump as the man in question, Kuzuki Souchirou, makes an appearance. It's likely just a coincidence that we happened to meet here, but the suddenness of it makes it feel like he just materialised out of thin air- which is certainly a possibility considering that he's Caster's Master.

"Emiya… what a surprise," Kuzuki says. In contrast to his words, his monotone voice suggests it's anything but. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Ah, I was just bringing some things over for the training camp tonight," I explain, toting my bag of goodies. "For some reason, I ended up with chef duty, so I wanted to make sure everything was ready for later."

"Of course. But is that all you're here for?" he asks. "If so, it seems to me that you're a little early. Do you have some other business here?"

I hesitate. "Not business, exactly. But I _was _hoping to borrow some of your time."

Issei looks at me in confusion, while Kuzuki stares through me with that piercing gaze of his.

"Training?" the teacher asks, to which I nod. "I see… very well. I have no urgent tasks, so I have no objections. Meet me in the courtyard once you are ready."

Without another word, Kuzuki turns and leaves us to it. In his absence, silence hangs between Issei and I. After levelling me with a curious gaze, Issei asks the question that's on his mind.

"Training? What's this all about, Emiya?"

I feign disinterest and shrug. "I found out that Kuzuki-Sensei has some experience in martial arts and thought it might be good to learn. You never know when you might need to defend yourself."

"Only you would think it's necessary to learn something like that," Issei sighs, before turning back to the direction of the kitchens. "You already have so many things on your plate, yet you're always adding more. I'm afraid that one of these days you'll bite off more than you can chew. I'm not going to try to discourage you from this if it means something to you, but please, make sure you don't neglect your other responsibilities. Or your friends."

"Of course not. I know how to prioritise what's important."

"I know you do. I just hope you don't lose sight of things in the middle of everything."

Issei leaves me to digest his words, having said all he wanted to say. Similarly, I say nothing. I mean, how am I supposed to respond to that anyway?

The comfortable silence from before is nowhere to be seen. Awkwardness is the only thing that hangs between us now. After a few seconds, we continue making our way to the kitchens. We put away the supplies- or what little of it there is, as the lion's share of tonight's meal will be provided by the temple- and exchange a subdued goodbye. As I leave, I take one of the bags with me- the one that contains my gear for my overnight stay. It's time to go and meet my teacher.

* * *

Upon exiting the temple, I find Kuzuki in the usual place in the rear courtyard. And by that I mean, the _exact _same place. The man's precision is unnerving as always- from his tendency to stand in the exact same position every time we meet for our training sessions, to his ever calm and measured movements, even his very appearance.

Every lesson he has ever taught me, he has always worn the same dark-green business suit… in fact, I don't think I have ever seen him wearing anything else. He is always impeccably dressed, his attire sculpted in a very deliberate fashion. For some reason, he reminds me strongly of the protagonist of a certain series of western video games, featuring a well-dressed assassin.

The reason for that is fairly obvious. Resemblance aside, Kuzuki _is_ an assassin… formerly, anyway.

I am not privy to the entire story behind his previous profession, but I do know that he underwent many gruelling years of training to reach where he is now. Day after day, he repeated the same set of movements, polishing his skills, perfecting the art of killing. I think everything he experienced in those years ironed out anything approaching human emotion within him. Because even after all this time, I have never seen him be even slightly ruffled by the things he's faced.

So while he may be dressed in a suit- an outfit entirely unsuited to battle- I know to not underestimate him. This is a man who will face any foe with his bare fists… and in the end, he will emerge without a single hair on his head being out of place.

"You're here. Am I to take that as a sign that you're ready?" he asks.

I nod. I'd made sure to dress suitably when I woke up this morning, just in case. There is nothing else to prepare for.

Kuzuki looks me up and down slowly. "You don't appear to be wearing any protective gear. Are you sure that's wise?"

"I can't keep wearing the gear if I want a proper taste of combat," I reply. "I've learned the basics, now I need to put them to the test."

"...As you wish. But remember, whatever happens next, it will be what you have invited upon yourself."

_I know._

Actions have consequences. This is something I've learned well.

In our previous sparring matches, I always took care to wear some sort of body protection, particularly when we first started out. It was never anything major, just some light padding to prevent serious injuries, which was certainly a possibility considering who I'm sparring against. However, as time went on and I became more accustomed to Kuzuki's style of fighting, I'd gradually transitioned to using even lighter gear.

During the war, the looming threat of the other Masters and their Servants left me with no choice but to learn to defend myself, for fear of death. I'd needed to improve my skills as quickly as I was able, regardless of what that might entail. But now there's none of that urgency, I have time to take things a little slower and balance out my responsibilities. To that end, I took a few precautions to avoid having to be sent to the hospital, or worse, being so badly injured that the people close to me would be required to care for me over a long-term basis.

But I can't keep stalling forever. Eventually, I need to progress to that next level. And so, I can't keep relying on these training wheels- I need to take the plunge. This will be the first time I go into a spar with Kuzuki completely unprotected… and I'm already anticipating the bruises I'll receive. I just hope I can avoid getting any where they'd be visible. If Fuji-nee saw them, she'd have a fit, or worse… go to war.

My partner- no… my _opponent _steps forward.

If I aim to take my training seriously, I can't consider this to be just a sparring match. From now on, I'll treat our fights like they're the real thing.

Widening my footing, I adopt the stance that Kuzuki has drilled into me over the last few months. My left fist hovers in front of my heart, primed to strike or defend. My right hand is somewhat lower but otherwise mirrors the other.

This is a reversed stance of The Snake, a style of martial arts that imitates the unpredictable motions of one of nature's most deadly creatures. Both fluid and tense, my body is prepared to move in any manner of ways.

Kuzuki dashes forwards. Before I know it, he's right on top of me.

Instinct takes over and I narrowly slip around the punch he throws at my face. A small victory in itself, but that's not the real danger of his technique.

He twists his arm, altering the direction of the blow, swinging sideways. My forearm takes the hit, deflects it up and over my head and I throw a strike of my own, which he blocks with relative ease.

Kuzuki follows up his first hit with a veritable rain of attacks, all delivered with pinpoint accuracy. Not one punch is thrown aimlessly.

Head. Lungs. Heart.

Each punch is designed to be a fatal blow. Any one hit at full strength could prove to be the end of me.

I hope he won't go quite that far.

I just about manage to fend off the punches Kuzuki throws my way, throwing a few of my own back whenever I can. Some manage to do some superficial damage, but most are deflected by a simple flick of his wrists and forearms.

Unfortunately, it's next to impossible for me to truly react to anything Kuzuki does, as I see little more than a blur every time he attacks. My mind is on overdrive, my eyes focused less on his hands and more on his face. The tiny flicker of his eyes is the best indication I have of his intentions. Through careful observation and muscle memory, my body moves to defend itself.

But it's not quite enough.

The moves aren't ingrained deeply enough to move with the same efficiency. My eyes can only see so much from a man who's as plain as a blank canvas. And so those punches, as relentless as a hailstorm, slowly break down my guard.

I take a hit to the ribs and my vision darkens as the pain lances through me, the force of it piercing me to my core. A second punch snakes through my guard, but despite the pain from the first strike, I manage to deflect the second. The punch that was aimed for my lung hits me in the shoulder instead.

For a second, I swear Kuzuki's eyes widen slightly. We're talking by an infinitesimal degree, but for someone like Kuzuki, that's quite a reaction.

_He wasn't expecting me to block that._

The thought that I managed to take my teacher by surprise flashes through my mind, but it doesn't stop me from capitalising on that brief window of opportunity.

I go on the offensive, striking low towards his momentarily vulnerable stomach.

His arm drops, blocks the punch. That's alright… it was only a feint anyway. The snake strikes to kill, but sometimes you need to distract your target first to make an opening.

And that's exactly what Kuzuki just gave me.

My other fist streaks forwards like an arrow in flight. An arrow aimed not for the head, lung or heart… but Kuzuki's throat. If it lands, it would give me the advantage for the first time.

But of course, it's not to be.

I'd deviated from the style of the Snake by deliberately trying to fake Kuzuki out. By doing so, I put Kuzuki in a position where he can't block or deflect the blow in time. I'd figured he'd dodge back and avoid the blow, but in doing so, leave me outside his range of attack. At best, it would give him a reset, which would be disappointing, but that's it.

Instead, he does something far more problematic… he simply leans to one side. A dangerous move that puts him off-balance and so, it was one I'd never expect from him.

The punch that should have hit him, encounters nothing but air. Faster than I can blink, Kuzuki lashes out at my extended arm and the entire limb goes numb. I stagger backwards, but my opponent isn't going to let me distance myself so easily. He steps back inside my range again and I throw one more wild swing with my uninjured arm. My desperate attack does nothing to stop his advance. I see one last blur of motion, then my vision turns dark.

* * *

An unknown length of time later, consciousness returns to my bruised and battered body. My senses come to life slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep.

First comes feeling. Mostly pain… my ribs ache the worst, with my shoulder not far behind it. And I can't ignore the raw sensation of my fists and forearms, from repeated punches and blocks. Strangely enough, there is also a soft sensation against the back of my head that I can't place.

Next comes sound. The gentle song of the wind as it whispers through the trees. The distant sound of people moving around. A voice.

"You are awake. Good," says the man responsible for knocking me out in the first place.

I open my eyes a crack and with that, comes sight. I appear to be lying on my back. My discarded jacket has been rolled up and placed under my head as an improvised pillow. The sun overhead is rather bright, so I shield my eyes with one hand. With the other, I push myself to my feet.

"It took you forty-three seconds to regain consciousness," Kuzuki announces. "That's not good enough. I suggest you try to improve that."

"I don't think there's much I can do about that," I groan.

"Of course there is. With the right methods, you can train just about anything."

_I'm not sure that waking up quickly after being knocked out is something I really want to be practising._

"Are you ready to discuss how things went? Or do you need more time to recover?" Kuzuki asks.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Please, let me know your thoughts, Sensei."

He nods. "As I had anticipated, your defence improved in the absence of your protective gear. I imagine it's because you were a little more concerned with self-preservation. On the other hand, your offence suffered as a result. While you managed to deliver some decent strikes, they were too few in number and ultimately ineffective. You need to be conscious of the fact that you cannot win a fight without attacking your opponent. If all you do is defend, eventually your opponent will overcome you."

Kuzuki trails off and I take a moment to digest his words. Unexpectedly, though, he has more to say.

"However, you did well to fend me off as long as you did. And while I would normally advise against crude improvisations, you almost managed to deceive me with that feint. If I hadn't myself deviated from the usual style of fighting against your expectations, you might have been able to land a decisive blow. Overall, it was a good attempt at taking advantage of my momentary surprise. Well done."

I almost choke at the unexpected praise, something that's extremely rare from Kuzuki. "T-thank you."

"There is no need to thank me- I am only giving my frank opinion," Kuzuki says. "On that note, I think this bout has shown just how far your skills have advanced. I believe that from now on, I can afford to push you a little further, if you have no objections."

The thought of stepping up my training after that display makes me feel a little faint… or maybe that's just the lingering disorientation from being knocked out? But deep in my chest, a vague feeling flutters. It feels like… excitement?

I bow before him. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to it."

"Now, I believe the other students will be arriving soon," Kuzuki says. "You might want to go and clean yourself up before then. I'm sure the Head Priest won't mind if you make use of the facilities."

"I will. I'll see you later, Sensei."

We exchange a light farewell and with that, I rush to the showers to clean up.

* * *

"So… who wants to go first?"

The first night of our training camp has arrived and Issei asks the question that's on everyone's mind. The sun has long since set and a few sparsely placed candles are the only source of light in the cavernous room we find ourselves in. Dancing flames cast shadows against the faces of all those present, making it hard to read their expressions. The tense atmosphere sets the perfect tone for an almost mandatory sleepover event- the telling of ghost stories.

The former Archery club captain, Ayako Mitsuzuri, is the first to speak. "Since it seems like no-one else wants to go…" she says, clearing her throat. "Listen well, this story is going to be a long one. If you haven't already visited the bathroom yet, tough luck. Just try not to wet yourself while I tell this."

At her words, everyone shuffles closer, myself included. Ayako's amber eyes slowly roll over each of us in turn, her lips slightly upturned in an amused smirk. Satisfied that she has our full attention, she brushes back a lock of her brown hair. She leans forward a little, the nearby candles illuminating her face.

And so, she begins her tale.

* * *

_In the neighbouring town of Shinto, there stands an apartment building by the name of Semina Heights. It's a fairly impressive building with many reasonably-sized rooms, all available for a very reasonable price. Out of these many rooms, there is one of particular interest: room two of the eleventh floor. For a short time, it was occupied by a young student called- well, let's just call him Mr. A._

_Mr. A was a reclusive soul, so when he moved to Semina Heights and was for the first time in his life able to live on his own, he was delighted with his new home. Sure, he was a little nervous at first about moving to such an unfamiliar neighbourhood, but he adjusted soon enough. He no longer had to deal with his parent's intrusions, or the overly friendly neighbours. For once, he could just live his own life how he wished and the last thing he wanted was for somebody to come into his life and mess that up._

_Yes, he was happy with his new life. But that's not to say that there wasn't anything he was unhappy about. In fact, there were two things that bothered him a fair deal._

_The first was the thoughtlessness of the family that had moved in next door, one month prior._

_And the second was the apartment itself._

_What was bothering- or rather, what was _unsettling _him about the apartment began all the way back in Spring, when he'd first moved in. It was a four-bedroom apartment and the size was nothing to complain about, which was rather fortunate considering that Mr. A favoured a life of luxury. In that sense, the apartment wasn't as extravagant as he would have liked, but it certainly met his minimum standards._

_Mr. A was a man who loved to be alone. He hated the outside world, so a place like this, devoid of other people, was like a fortress to him. This was his protection, his sanctuary. But ultimately, he wasn't a man who liked being alone. It was simply that he was subconsciously afraid of someone violating what he deemed to be his space._

_This brings us to the next reason for why Mr. A chose Semina Heights for his new abode._

_It was the distance from the living room to the door. Stretching between them was a long hallway, with neither storage rooms nor a bathroom along its length. This hallway was the only way into and out of the apartment. Meaning, should anyone want to enter the apartment proper, they would have no choice but to walk it's length._

_This sense of distance gave Mr. A no end of comfort. For no matter who should pass through that door, whether they be friend or foe, they wouldn't be able to take him by surprise. This hallway wasn't much of an obstacle for intruders, but that sense of separation- to him- felt like a substantial boundary. It may as well have been a portal to another dimension._

_Because of his fondness for this hallway, he didn't realise that there was something off about it until some time after he moved in. What was that, you ask? It's a simple thing really… so simple that it made him wonder why he never noticed it before._

_The hallway had no lights. Not a single one._

_Apparently, a flaw in the building's design had left no space to install any lights. The hallways of other apartments had them, but only his room had been overlooked. Why nobody had decided to mention this before he moved in, he would never find out._

_For then, the new family moved in next door._

* * *

I listen half-attentively while Ayako spins her story. To my surprise, she's actually quite a decent storyteller. Her words come out as little more than a whisper, the rest of us subconsciously leaning closer to hear her words. The satisfied smirk on her face only grows as she looks at her enraptured audience, some of whom are already getting jittery. In the dim light, she more closely resembles an evil witch hunched over her cauldron than a modest schoolgirl.

Yes, she's quite good. And yet, I'm not able to immerse myself in the story as my classmates are.

For I have already witnessed hell. As such, common ghost stories have no sway over me.

Ayako glances at me mid-sentence before trailing off, her eyes widening in surprise.

Everyone looks at her curiously and she clears her throat self-consciously, before picking back up where she left off.

…_Okay, so what was that all about?_

As much as I want to ask her that very question though, now is not the best time. For now, I'll let her finish her story and maybe after we're done here, I can ask her.

Deliberately avoiding eye contact with me, Ayako continues her story. She introduces the new family and explains how Mr. A strikes up an unlikely friendship with the daughter. He and the young girl- who was no more than three years old- would occasionally meet in the entranceway between their apartments. Each time they did, she would always ask him the same question:

"Onii-chan, won't you push the button for me?"

The elevator buttons were easily within her reach, yet she would never do it herself, never lift her arms past her shoulders. She would always ask the question. While Mr. A thought that it was odd, he always did as she asked. Since there were only two apartments on each floor- his own and the girl's family's- he knew that it was unlikely that there would be someone else to come by to help her with it.

So far, I wouldn't say that this sound like much of a horror story. But then, things start to take a darker turn. Mr. A started to find the girl crouching in front of the elevator whenever he was coming home, or leaving. She would always ask the question.

Through repeating that exchange over and over, he learned her name, which he promptly forgot. Instead, he thought of her as 'little red riding hood', because she always wore the same red hood, which largely covered her face. As for why she did that, he would never find out.

No… that was a lie. He could glean the reason for it easily enough. He simply chose to overlook it.

An argument heard from the neighbouring apartment and screams that could only be described as shrieking.

The heart-wrenching cries of a little girl crying every other day.

And the fact that that very same girl could not lift her arm past her shoulder due to a neglected bone fracture. How, on her father's command, she wore that red hood to hide the bruises on her face.

He chose to overlook it all, because to acknowledge it would be to risk the lifestyle he had built. The security of what he thought he knew far outweighed the challenge of dealing willingly with the unknown.

The more I hear, the angrier I feel. I know that Mr. A is only a character in this story, a pawn in which the plot revolves around. But even so… how could he? How could he just stand by and do nothing, knowing this was happening mere metres away from him? How could he not be driven to action?

Just like my friends around me, I'm left shaking by the tale. But in my case, it's not by fear, but by rage. Even as I struggle to calm down, Ayako starts to bring the story to its nightmarish conclusion.

In horrifying detail, she describes how, once again, Mr. A bears witness to the conflict next door. For the final time.

A banshee's scream, siren-like crying. The sounds of a door being wrenched open out in the entranceway.

Then the sound of something hammering against Mr. A's door.

As always, he ignored it all and bumped up the tv volume a few notches to drown out what he didn't want to hear. It would all quiet down eventually, is what he told himself. And quiet down it did. By the time he turned off the tv and went to sleep at the end of the night, the usual silence had returned.

The following day, the police came to visit him. It was then that he learned what had happened the night before. A murder-suicide. During an argument, Mrs XX picked up a knife and murdered Mr XX. And then, after slashing her daughter with the same blade, she took her own life.

When the officer asked Mr. A if he had any information to offer, "I slept like a log and didn't hear anything," was his answer.

With no further questions, the officer left, but not before Mr. A asked a question of his own.

"Excuse me, but what happened to their daughter?"

The answer was not a comfortable one. Little red riding hood had undoubtedly been heavily injured following the attack, yet there was no corpse. Her body was nowhere to be found.

The most disturbing part was, the officer could not tell where she had gone. It appeared that little red riding hood had escaped into the entranceway, but the bloodstains stopped in front of the elevator. Why hadn't she used it? Why hadn't she sought help from Mr. A? Surely she could have a least rung the doorbell.

_Onii-chain, won't you push the button for me?_

She couldn't reach the button. That was what Mr. A wanted to say, but didn't have the heart to. The officer left, leaving Mr. A to his thoughts. In his head, he pictured the little girl, desperately banging on his door, half-dead on her feet. It was an image that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

In the end, the girl's body was never found.

Several days passed and gradually, Mr. A started to forget what had happened that night. But then, late one night, he started to notice strange noises. If he didn't pay attention to it, they were almost inaudible, no more noticeable than the hum of a microwave in a neighbouring room. He told himself that it was just the wind shaking the window.

But every night, the noise returned.

_Bang, bang._

When, he finally realised that the noise came not from the window, but the hallway, he walked down that shadowy entranceway. When he looked through the peephole, he saw-

Something red, wearing a hood, clinging onto the door.

He ran back down the long hallway. Back in his living room, the clock tells him it's two am… the same time as that last argument.

Those night-time visits became a regular event. Every night, he would hear the incessant knocking. Not once did he go to answer it. But it continually wore away at his psyche, worming its way into his thoughts. By the end of autumn, he could hear it no matter what time it was.

And so he finally decided to confront it. When that knocking returned, he went to that door and threw it wide open to find…

Nothing.

No red shadow leaning against his door. And no body lying at his feet. There was nothing there to indicate that anything was out of the ordinary.

Relief washed over him, erasing all traces of the fear that had been building inside him for months. There had never been anything to worry about, he told himself. He had simply felt guilty and became paranoid, creating delusions that only he could hear.

By opening the door, he had confronted those unfounded feelings and banished them. It was all over now.

Mr. A closed the door and locked it, just for insurance's sake. Having done so, he turned back down the hallway and-

His eyes widened. At the end of the corridor, silhouetted by the dim light from the next room...

There was something…

Wearing a red hood.

For the final time, Ayako spoke in that childish voice. But this time, the tone was much more chilling.

"Onii-chan… the button…"

"EEEEEEEKkkk!"

* * *

"What the hell was that, Mitsuzuri? That was far too graphic! Too many details! The acting was too good! And why would you make the story that long?!"

A force of nature rivalling the destructive power of Hurricane Taiga springs up out of nowhere. Flailing in blind panic, Kaede Makidera, the track team's star sprinter, lashes out wildly. Thankfully, my friends have the common sense to leap to safety before they take a fist to their face. After all, no-one wants to be on the receiving end of one of Kaede's punches- there's a reason that the caramel-skinned tomboy is known as the 'Black Panther of Humura'. Namely her dark hair and skin, combined with her physical prowess and volatile nature.

"Anyway, that Mr. A guy was stupid!" Kaede exclaims. "If it was even half as freaky in that apartment of his, he should have just moved the hell out!"

"'Move,' huh? Can you really say that, considering you've been saying stuff like, 'I swear I'll leave this house' for how many years now?" Ayako counters. "He was just too familiar with the place. A little anxiety isn't enough to make someone leave that easily. Besides, if everyone had that 'move out' mindset, there'd be no-one left on this island with how many ghosts there are here."

"Right you are. I do believe that ghost stories have become an integral part of our culture at this point."

Kaede's silver-haired club-mate, Kane Himuro, join the conversation and delivers a well-warranted opinion. In contrast to her exuberant companion, she is as cool as they come and appears completely unruffled by Ayako's story.

I start to phase out as the three athletes begin talking about Kaede's supposedly haunted house. The voices of Ayako and Kane become a quiet drone, while the significantly louder cries of the sprint star vaguely register in my mind as she vehemently denies the presence of ghosts in her home.

The reason for my distraction is… well, Ayako's story. Just thinking about it makes my blood boil. It's illogical because, at the end of the day, Mr. A is just part of a story. But I also can't ignore the fact that this innocent little story, something fabricated for the sake of entertainment, is a representation of something that's very real. This is something that happens on a daily basis behind closed doors and people get away with such atrocious crimes. And the real kicker? It's that people like Mr. A actually exist. People that witness such things, yet do nothing to help, with tragic consequences.

I understand how someone might not want to involve themselves in something like that, whether out of fear of retribution, or something else entirely. But there are other ways to address something like that, ways to draw it to the attention of someone who has the power to do something without drawing attention to yourself.

A single anonymous message can change everything. It takes but a moment of a person's time, but it could be enough to save someone's life.

Mr. A had the opportunity to do something, but chose not to. Do I pity him for his eventual fate? Not at all. In fact, for committing the sin of ignoring another's suffering, I feel he got exactly what he deserved.

"Emiya-kun? Are you okay?"

It's only upon hearing the voice that I realise someone is looking at me. I turn towards the speaker, Yukika Saegusa. Her ordinarily dark eyes seem even darker still and she fidgets with the cuff of her beige cardigan agitatedly. Seems she noticed how quiet I was… dare I say she might actually be worried about me?

I smile at her, though it's more to reassure her than to display any kind of genuine mirth. "I'm fine. Actually, I was just thinking now would be a good time to make a break for the bathroom."

"...I see. Well make sure to hurry back, okay?" she says finally, a sweet smile blossoming on her face.

"Yeah, Emiya," Ayako interrupts, having overheard my reply. "You didn't seem phased by my story, so that's gotta mean you've got some pretty good ones up your sleeve, right? I wanna hear 'em, so you'd better not try and skip out on us."

"Not to worry, Mitsuzuri-senpai," chimes Sakura. "Senpai's wonderful with ghost stories… he has no trouble with scaring Fujimura-sensei at least."

"Fine, fine. Don't worry, I'll give you a good one when my turn comes," I say, as I climb to my feet. "I'll be right back, so carry on without me."

I quash the objections of my schoolmates as I leave and in the end, they somewhat reluctantly pass the torch onto Yukika. The poor girl rightfully seems a little flustered, given that she's never told a ghost story before, but hurriedly mentions a rumour she's heard. Something about a ghost in a haunted western mansion?

I know that this sort of event isn't exactly Yukika's forte, so I'm glad that she's trying in her own way to participate. In my head, I silently apologise to her for taking advantage of her naivety. She really is a kind girl and most definitely a people person, given how she managed to glean that I was feeling off. It only makes me feel guiltier for brushing her off like that.

As soon as I'm out of sight, the plastic smile falls from my face. Looking up at the night sky, I heave a heavy sigh. The night air here in the mountains is cool and crisp- entirely different from the stale air of the city. A few deep breaths help to clear my head, clearing the muddle inside my head, cooling my flushed skin.

"Now then… what to do?"

The last thing I want to do is ruin everyone's fun with my brooding. By the time I rejoin them, I need to be in a better frame of mind. Basically, I need to distract myself and think of something else until these troublesome feelings subside.

While I cited that I needed to visit the bathroom earlier, that was just so I could excuse myself without attracting undue attention. In truth, I just need some breathing space for a while. So I start to walk aimlessly and try to think of something other than Ayako's story. Something funny would be good… do I even know any good jokes? I don't think so.

Since nothing comes to mind, I just settle for thinking about some new cooking recipes I want to try out. In my head, a fevered debate about the ideal spices for a chicken curry takes place. Green Thai-style curry has always been a safe bet, but recently I've started experimenting with fresh ingredients over dried powders and now that I think about it, it could work really well. Ooh, maybe I could even try a combo of Lemongrass, Corriander and fresh chillies.

_THUMP._

Whoops… I've just bumped into someone coming from around the corner.

"Oh, I'm sorr-"

The words get stuck in my throat as I recognise who exactly I just bumped into: a tall slender woman wearing purple robes. The hood that usual hides her face is down, revealing delicate elfin features. Her indigo hair is parted at the fringe with two long strands reach down to her collarbones. The rest of her hair tumbled down her back, free-flowing but for a single braid behind her left ear.

Shivers ripple out across my body and I break into a cold sweat. Why, oh why did it have to be _her_?!

"C-caster… I'm sorr-"

"My apologies. I was distracted."

"..."

My mind freezes. It struggles to accept the fact that I haven't already been vaporised or transformed into a small rodent.

"However, you should be careful, boy. Walking into someone who is out for a pleasant evening stroll is just plain rude."

With that same serene look on her face, she walks away. Refined and sarcastic as always, eh Caster? But thinking about it, seeing her without her hood is quite rare. It makes her look less like a witch and more the beautiful woman she is.

The thought kicks the gears in my head into motion. It seems that Caster is in a good mood right now… I avoided talking to her yesterday, but since I'm already here, this would be a good opportunity to talk.

I jog after the retreating form of the Witch of Colchis.

"Hey, Caster."

The Servant half-turns towards me, one brow raised quizzically. "What is it, boy?"

"...Sorry for bothering you. I was hoping to have a word with you, while I could."

"If you must. But I don't have all night, so make it quick," she replies. There's a small degree of irritation in her voice. But it's still a step up from her usual tone, in that it doesn't give me the impression that she's imagining how she might use me for one of her experiments.

"Of course. I'll make this as quick as I can," I assure her. "I was just wondering if you've seen anything odd around town, is all."

"...Did you really think to bother me with something as simple as that?" Caster asks dryly. "If so, it seems like a tremendous waste of time. Odd things are always happening in this town- a side effect of the latent magic in the area. You are just more aware of such things than you once were."

"Ah-"

To say I'm shocked would be an understatement. For the last couple of days, I've been worried out of my mind, yet Caster appears so nonchalant about the matter.

Did I overreact? Was I simply taking some small occurrence and blowing it out of proportion?

I suddenly feel very silly. If only I had decided to consult Caster earlier. I would have been able to avoid this unnecessary worrying.

"I see. I'm sorry for bothering you… I'll leave you to it."

I give a slight bow and turn to leave. I'm not eager to waste any more of Caster's time, in case her mood turns sour.

"Wait."

I stop.

"Is that all you were going to ask?"

My face twists into a puzzled expression. "Yes…"

"...My god, you are even more of a moron than I'd first believed," she mutters.

Oh god, now she's definitely irritated.

"Were you not about to ask me of the resumption of the Grail War? Or the oddities of the last few days?" she asks.

"...Hold on. I thought you just told me there was nothing to be concerned about?"

"I said nothing of the sort. I merely said that strange occurrences are the norm here," she counters. "If you took that to mean 'everything is fine' then you really should learn to not jump to conclusions. And to ask the right questions."

Typical Caster. Always so pedantic.

"So does that mean you know what's going on here? After all, I would have thought that a sorceress as skilled as yourself would have worked everything out already."

"In that case, you would be mistaken," Caster replies. It's certainly true that it's within my capabilities to figure out this little conundrum. In fact, I did spend a short while attempting to unravel the mystery… I dug so deep that I almost grasped the root of the matter. But in the end, I decided to cease my search prematurely and leave things be."

"Why? If you were so close, doesn't that mean you pretty much understood everything at that point? What's a little more if you're already at the answer?"

"A wasted effort, that's what. I had gleaned everything I wanted to know," she brags. Then, with a sigh, "Besides, anything more would have been a wasted effort."

"Would it? If you knew a little more, then maybe you could have fixed things?"

"Oh? And who said I wanted to fix things, boy?"

A twisted grin spread across her face. In contrast to her previous smile, there's nothing friendly about it. Rather, it bears a distinct sense of malice that tells me I'm standing on a knife's edge.

"...My apologies. I'd just assumed that we were of the same mind here. The potential danger threatens us all, after all."

Medea, the Betrayer, stares at me coldly. But the rage in her eyes begins to subside, slowly. Instead, it's replaced with an emotion I can't quite place. One I've never seen from her before.

"If you think that we are alike in any way, then you are wrong. But I suppose I can't fault you for assuming such," she says quietly. She closes her eyes in contemplation, then sighs again. "As much as I'd like to not have to deal with you anymore, I doubt Souchirou-sama would be happy about one of his students coming to harm. Especially out of their own ignorance."

"Then you'll tell me what you know about what's going on?"

"Yes. I'll answer any questions you have, so ask away."

I pause a moment. "What do you know about the cause of all this?"

"I would think that's rather obvious. It's merely the after-effects of the Tohsaka child's failed experiment."

"But I thought-"

"That the upheaval at the Einzbern Castle was the extent of it? Wrong… that was merely the initial effect. We are currently at the tail end of a peaceful period, but soon enough, we will be struck by another series of cataclysmic events. You could think of it as being similar to the aftershocks that follow a major earthquake, or perhaps the echo of a loud noise. Except these after-effects have the potential to be just as severe, if not worse, than the original ones."

I think back to the chaos that ensued back then, over a month ago. At the time we were lucky to have Rin, Illya- and by extension Berserker- on hand to deal with the mess that came about. Not to mention that we were in a far-removed location where there would be no collateral damage. If that were to happen again, but across the entire town…

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine the destruction that would follow. "If something like that happens again, who knows how many people will die. Is there a way to stop it?"

"I don't know. My research didn't uncover a method of avoiding such an outcome," Caster admits. "Even if I did have a plan in place, it would likely be too little, too late. A disturbance of this magnitude cannot be undone so easily. Doing so would require both time and resources that we don't have."

"Then… there's nothing to be done?" I ask.

"It's far from hopeless," says Caster. "The recurrence may be inevitable, but it can still be fought off, just as it was the first time. I can't give an estimate for when it might happen, but it's likely to be soon. Very soon. I suggest you prepare yourself for when it does."

"What exactly should I be preparing myself for?"

"Anything and everything. Quite literally," Caster replies. "Unfortunately that's nigh on impossible, so I would suggest that you focus that much harder on your training, boy. Make the best of the time you have left. I will be doing much the same thing."

She glances off into the distance- towards the quarters she shares with her now-husband, Kuzuki. Again, that indecipherable expression flits across her face, but as it's much more profound this time, I'm able to place it for what it is.

Sadness.

"The night is drawing on," says Caster wearily. "I think I will turn in for the night, if you have nothing else you wish to discuss."

"...I think that's everything. Thank you, Caster."

She nods in response. "Do not worry yourself too much about what is to come. Souchirou-sama will no doubt want to combat this abnormality and I will follow his wishes. When it all comes to a head, you will have our support."

With those parting words, she leaves.

And I'm once again left alone, with only my thoughts for company.

"...So much for clearing my head. My troubles just keep growing, don't they?"

The bitterness in my voice rings loud and clear, even if no-one is around to hear it. Now I _really_ need to clear my head. I find myself a bench overlooking the temple gardens and take a seat. And by that, I mean, perch on the edge and rest my elbows on my knees. As I stare down at my feet, I reflect on what I've just learned.

One: the events of the last few days aren't just going to blow over. They might potentially be as bad as those that happened over a month ago, if not worse.

Two: the entire city will likely be affected by what's to come.

Three: since we have no idea what to expect, we'll need to be ready for anything.

This just goes to show how bad my luck is. Everything has just gone from bad to worse.

_But you're still going to do something about it, right?_

The task of protecting this city may be daunting, but that doesn't change what I must do. If the cost of failure means the deaths of the innocent, I will do whatever it takes to subvert that fate.

For an instant, my vision is dyed a vivid crimson. An ominous portent, or a delusion, I don't know. I turn my gaze to the sky and rub my eyes, but the moon and stars are all I see.

"...Now's not the time to start seeing things," I mutter to myself.

It's far too early for me to start losing my mind. At the very least, I need to wait until after we've resolved the anomalies around town. Until then, I'll focus more heavily on my training.

For now, I should get back inside. Otherwise, I risk being questioned by my overly curious schoolmates. Giving one last glance at the alabaster guardian above, I head back to the guest room.

* * *

I tiptoe back inside as Issei is in the midst of telling his story. The ever-serious star student has a different aura about him now, his voice low and croaky.

"...And thus, Yadachi was resurrected. The mother's mad desire to once again see her beloved son, abused to death by the villagers, had resurrected the dead."

_Wow, a necromancy story, Issei? Isn't that quite taboo for the son of a monk?_

I settle back into my spot on the floor as quietly as I can. Too quietly, even. Kaede glances my way, probably seeing a flicker of movement as I settle down. The moment her eyes reach me, she opens her mouth and-

Screams at the top of her lungs.

* * *

"I should have known that if anyone were to ruin the mood, it would have been you, Makidera!" Issei complains. "And to think I was just getting to the good part."

"Well, it's Emiya's fault to just appearing out of nowhere!" Kaede argues, turning to me. "Seriously, you need to make some noise when you move! Sneaking up on people isn't right."

I chuckle weakly. "I'm sorr-"

"It may be true that Emiya is eerily quiet when he moves, but you certainly overreacted," Issei says. "To anyone outside this room, I imagine it sounded like you were being murdered."

"Tch, it wasn't that bad…"

_I think it might have been, actually. Why else would Issei's brother have felt the need to come in and ask us if we were alright?_

As the Issei and Kaede continue to bicker, the rest of us heave a collective sigh of exasperation.

"Oh my," someone hums. "A catfight?"

"Looks like it," I answer.

Wait. Who was it that just spoke there?

It takes me a second to connect the voice to a person. But the answer I come to makes no sense. It couldn't possibly be-

I look over to where the voice came from and realise that there's someone sat next to Sakura. Someone I hadn't noticed before.

A raven-haired young girl. She sits among us with a poise one wouldn't expect from someone her age, her face is set in a mask of polite interest. Her crimson turtleneck is just tight enough to make you aware of her feminine appeal and her skirt just short enough to show a sliver of her thighs above her long black socks. Yet despite those glimpses, she manages to err on the side of modesty. From appearances alone, you might mistake her for an upright lady, or even an angel.

But most people are that it's all just a facade. Beneath that perfect mask, lies an entirely different persona. One belonging to a talented magus.

Far from being the honour student of Homura High, this she-devil is shrewd, stingy and extremely bossy. In short, she is a bit of a thug that uses her wit to manipulate and torment- or to phrase it more gently, tease- everyone close to her.

This paints a rather unflattering picture, overall. But she does happen to have some good points that help to balance. Her kind heart, for one. A strong sense of justice. And loyalty to the ones she cares for.

If you omit the more supernatural factors that shape the person she is, there would be one word that describes her perfectly.

_Tsundere._

But for the love of all I hold dear, I hope she never finds out that I use that term to describe her.

Seeing her now causes a multitude of emotions to well up to the surface. Happiness. Relief. Confusion. Because I am unsure as to why she's here.

"Tohsaka?" I say quietly.

"Yes, Emiya-kun?" she replies in a mock-sweet voice. "What's up?"

"Ah, nothing much. I'm just surprised to see you here," I say awkwardly. "Last I heard, you were still in London. Did you just arrive back?"

Rin's mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. After floundering like a fish for a few seconds, she manages to say something at last.

"Are you… are you feeling alright, Shirou?"

"Huh? I'm fine. Why?"

"Well…" She trails off, seemingly struggling to find the right words. "I came back two days ago… don't you remember? I came in and joined you for breakfast. Everyone was there- you, me, Taiga, Sakura, Saber and Rider. Illya too. All of us."

"That's…"

_That's not right. _

My vision turns grainy. Pain pulses through my skull, unable to contain this single thought.

_You weren't there. I know you weren't._

Rin leans towards me, eyes widened in alarm. I see her lips move, but no sound reaches my ears. I can no longer hear anything at all. Except for the roar of my blood coursing through my head.

_You weren't there._

**Yes, she was.**

The pressure keeps mounting, becoming increasingly unbearable with each passing second. The longer I question Rin's presence, the more it feels like my head is going to burst apart.

_She wasn't here. I know she wasn't!_

**She was. You are just misremembering things.**

My stomach churns, burning away with an infernal heat. The weight of that will presses down on me, leaving no room for argument. No room to breath.

I... begin to doubt myself in the face of that unwavering conviction.

"Of course…" I say. The pressure in my head subsides. "Sorry, Tohsaka… guess it just slipped my mind."

I give her my best reassuring smile and she leans back, her face softening. She seems wary for some reason, but I'm not sure why.

_Why would she be wary?_

**There's nothing to be afraid of.**

_I just had a lapse of memory, that's all. Nothing is wrong._

_**Everything is as it is supposed to be. ThErE iS nO nEeD To QuEsTiOn AnYtHiNg.**_

Before long, I forget about whatever I was thinking about. In fact, my mind feels lighter than it has in a long time. Now, if only this fogginess in my head would clear up.

"Emiya, you're up," says Ayako. Behind her, Issei and Kaede glance over her shoulder, ceasing their argument.

Abruptly, everyone's eyes turn to me. It's a little nerve-wracking, honestly. I've got a few ghost stories on me, but don't think I've ever told one to this many people.

"Ah, sure," I answer.

I ponder which story to tell for a moment. Since I've never been very good with the whole dramatisation part, it's got to be a good one. Something that doesn't require an amazing delivery to be effective.

"Okay, here's a long one."

For the sake of the festival, I do something I normally wouldn't. With a dramatic, drawn-out pause, I start my story.

* * *

By the time we call it a night, the candles have all but burned out. Issei and I go around and snuff them out, extinguishing the spluttering flames in a puff of smoke. Then, as the girls have already retreated to what is to be their room for the night, we head to our own.

Two futons on an otherwise bare tatami floor… it's nothing special, but no less than I'm used to at home.

Issei clears his throat to get my attention. "Given that we need to wake up fairly early tomorrow, I would suggest that we get to sleep soon. If you want to engage in pillow fighting or some such other activity, we need to make it quick."

"...I'm no expert Issei, but I think that pillow fighting during sleepovers falls under the jurisdiction of the more gentle gender."

"Oh. In that case, I will turn in then."

"Sure. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

With nothing else to do, I turn off the lights, before burrowing under the covers. Despite my best efforts, I struggle to fall asleep. The room is dark, the futon beneath me more than comfortable, but my over-active mind refuses to shut down.

However, as weariness begins to set in, my effort finally bears fruit and I drift away into the realm of the dreamer.

* * *

Dreams are something that I'm no stranger to. In my younger years, I would dream almost every night. I would dream of the past and a city felled by fire. Of homes and people, reduced to nought but cinders. Of scorching heat and toxic fumes, clawing away at my body.

That one recurring dream was a memory. My earliest memory, even. It continued to haunt me for several years, until time served to heal the scars on my heart. Those dreams became less frequent as the years passed by. Now they only visit me every once in a blue moon.

Other dreams, however, are rare indeed. For the most part, I sleep soundly through the night, without such fleeting illusions.

But even so, I still recall the sensation of slipping into one of these dreams. For me, it's rather like slowly falling into a deep pit. As I fall, the darkness swallows me, enveloping me in its embrace. Then the darkness gives way to light, becoming the dream itself.

As my consciousness fades, I'm able to recognise that I'm slipping into one of these dreams. But there's something different about it. The… _air_, for lack of a better term, seems unusually close. If I had to describe it, it feels more like I'm drifting along a tunnel, than floating downwards.

And at the end of the tunnel, I see a light. One which is gradually drawing closer. And closer.

Until it fills my entire vision.

* * *

_I find myself standing in a vast room. Except 'room' doesn't really do it justice. I feel like this place is easily large enough to swallow up my entire house and then some, without the slightest of trouble._

_Towering columns reach up towards the domed ceiling above. The constellations of the stars creep across its surface, projected through some unknown means, either magical or mundane._

_Below this simulated night sky, sit twelve seats, arranged in an inverted U shape. None of these seats are alike, each bearing interesting, albeit unusual features that set them apart from their neighbours. One is formed from woven apple-tree branches, while another is of chrome and leather. And the one fishing-themed chair stands out even more. But despite the disparity in design, all of these seats have a presence to them- a feeling of power that I can't quite explain. Coupled with their monstrous size, it makes one question just who exactly might occupy these veritable thrones._

_Given the grandeur of this room, it's clearly some form of meeting room. However, it doesn't appear that there's a meeting ongoing at the moment. Rather, it seems like I've arrived to witness the tail-end of a fight._

_In a shower of rubble, one of the thrones crumbles to pieces, a long blade of bronze and steel sheering straight through it. It's wielder, a sandy-haired youth, laughs maniacally, in a state of rapture from his callous destruction._

"_And the first one falls!" the man roars. "Who shall be next?"_

_The meaning behind his words eludes me. How does destroying thrones impact people in any way? Evidently there's something at play here that I'm not aware of._

_The man moves towards another of the thrones, brandishing his blade once again. As he does, I become aware of something much more significant._

_Three others lie limply on the ground, unmoving. The first lies towards the outskirts of the room, presumably having been thrown against the wall with significant force. Another lies towards the centre of the room, besides an open hearth pit. From my current position, I'm unable to see much of either of them. However, I can just about catch a glimpse of blonde hair from the second._

_The third person- another young man in his mid-teens- is lying face-down at my feet. His jet-black can be described as messy at best, although that's being generous. He bears no obvious signs of injury, yet he seems weary, barely clinging to consciousness. As far as I can tell, it appears that he's already on the verge of death. _

_Instinctively, I try to reach out to him. But for one reason or another, I'm unable to move. I can only watch as he drags himself across the ground, towards his companions. The last of his strength fading, he collapses._

"_Why… why did it have to end like this?" he breathes._

_A triumphant yell signals the destruction of another throne. The injured young man stirs slightly and lifts his head to glare at the offending attacker._

"_I did everything I could. Fought to protect my friends. Trained to defeat my enemies. But it was never enough."_

_Bitterness drips from his lips, but it's nothing compared to the weight of his sorrow._

"_They said I would sacrifice the world to save my friends. But I guess I wasn't strong enough to save either."_

_His words have a tone of finality to them, a hopeless listlessness you would only hear from one who has given up all hope. For all intents and purpose, he has become little more than a living corpse. Someone waiting to die._

_That's a feeling I know well. That was my beginning and it seems it is also to be his end._

"_**C'mon now… are you really ready to give up now? Are you really content to let things end here?"**_

_A disembodied voice penetrates the silence._

"_**Where is your fire? I admit I'm a little out of the loop, but I thought you youngsters were all about fighting to the death these days. Seems to me you're something of a coward if you can't even die with dignity."**_

_The boy's face twists into an indignant scowl. "Oh yeah? Must be quite the mind-reader to know so much about me."_

_The boy takes the lack of response as an answer in itself. "No? Thought not. Don't pretend to know anything about me, whoever you are."_

_His response is quite spirited, despite his current condition. The voice hums contentedly._

"_**Quite right. Care to amend that? I would say you have… oh, a few minutes left before you kick the bucket. Plenty of time."**_

"_...Why not?" the boy scoffs. "Not like I have anything better to do. I'm sure you'd just keep bothering me 'til I give you answers anyway, since I can't exactly go anywhere right now."_

"_**Oooh, how right you are. First things first, who's your friend over there? Seems to have it out for those thrones. Not that I blame him… horrid things that they are."**_

"_He's no friend of mine," comes the venomous reply. "He betrayed my trust, threw in with the enemy and destroyed everything I cared about." His head tilts towards the limp bodies of his companions. "And he killed my friends, people he once knew, just because they tried to stop him."_

_The speaker pauses for a moment, presumably contemplating his words._

"_**Your friends, huh? The ones you were supposed to destroy the world for."**_

"_I would never do that," the boy denies. "I can't sacrifice one thing for another. If anything, I'd find a way to save both."_

"_**I'm sorry kid, but it doesn't look like you had much success with that. You're determined alright. So why did you fail?"**_

_The boy clears his throat, his skin beginning to turn pale. "Our enemies were strong. We knew what we were up against, knew the weaknesses of the monsters we fought from their legends. But they were way stronger than we could have expected. We- I was too weak to stop them."_

"_**A simple matter of power then. Your own was not enough to trump theirs."**_

_The speaker pauses once again. Possibly due to exertion, or just the toll of his injuries, the boy becomes increasingly still, his breaths short and ragged._

"_**Then what would you say if I were to tell you I could help you?"**_

_There is a hesitant, calculated tone to the voice._

"_...Help me? Help me how?" the boy responds weakly. "And how do I know that I can trust you?"_

"_**You're on your last legs, kiddo. Can't really afford to be turning me down either way. As for how… I can lend you the power you need to do whatever you want. Just tell me what you desire and I will make it come true."**_

"_...What I desire," says the boy. His eyes drift closed, slowly. "I want another chance to save my friends. I want to go back and do things better."_

_The speaker makes a sound of utter delight at his response. _

"_**Oh, how good! Very well… your wish is my command, Master."**_

_The air flickers and distorts, revealing the speaker for the first time. He kneels beside the fallen warrior, his shadowy form showing just enough of his features for one to identify him as human. But the toothy grin on his face is more appropriate for a predator._

_Or a monster._

"_**Hang on. This is going to be a bumpy ride."**_

_The shadow being's form morphs and twists, tendrils reaching outward greedily. Then, with a roar, they fan outwards, stretching to the furthest reaches of the room._

_The rampaging adolescent finally takes notice of the unexpected gate-crasher. "What in the-"_

"_**Too late, buddy. Can't stop me now."**_

_The darkness swells to permeate the whole room, swallowing the light and arresting the senses. Sight, sound, smell, nothing is impervious to its touch. Even I am swallowed up by the darkness, incapable of resisting._

_For what feels like the longest time, but is likely only a few seconds, I'm left suspended in a dark void. There is no indication that there is anything around me… only the inky darkness, so thick that it's almost tangible. But then, specks of light being to creep through the darkness around me. The shadows gradually withdraw, revealing completely new surroundings._

_From what was a grand throne room, I instead find myself in what looks to be a young boy's bedroom. The furnishings are fairly sparse, with only a single bed in one corner and a closet against the opposing wall. Strangely enough, almost everything in here is some shade of blue, which I find a little odd. But who am I to question it, when my own room is as bare as can be?_

_Through the room's sole window, a concrete jungle makes itself known. The constant roar of traffic passing by below is only somewhat muffled by the thin pane of glass, forming a constant hum in the background._

_If it weren't for the fetid stench of stale beer and cigar smoke, or the muddy boots on the windowsill, I would say this was a pleasant room._

_A weak groan catches my attention, at which point I become aware that I'm not alone. Beneath the blankets is a dark-haired boy, who is no more than say twelve years old._

_Now, I want to say that I don't know who he is, since practically every one of my acquaintances is close to my age, if not older. However, but I can't deny that he looks unnervingly familiar for some reason…_

_With another groan, the boy wakes. His eyelids flicker open, his sea-green eyes scouring the ceiling above him. He sits up, clutching his head as if it pains him and sits unmoving for some time._

_Until I hear a gentle knock at the door._

"_Percy?"_

_The instant those words are spoken, the boy perks up, his expression a mixture of confusion, wonder and hope. With a slight creak, the door opens and a woman with long brown hair pokes her head into the room._

_Their eyes meet and the boy freezes._

"_Hey, mom."_

_The woman's smile is dazzling. "Hello, son."_

_She steps into the room and the boy- Percy, I guess- flings himself into her open arms. Overcome with emotion, he sobs in her embrace, his tears soaking into her shirt._

"_Percy?" says the woman, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?"_

"_It's nothing," Percy sniffles. "I'm just happy to see you."_

_The woman inhales sharply. "You know, I think that's the first time you've ever admitted something like that so readily," she says shakily. "I'm happy to see you too, son."_

_With the gentlest touch, she runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him with tender reassurances, until his tears dry up._

"_Hey there. It's okay now," she coos. Her face takes on a wistful expression. "You must have had a hard time. But you're back now… and I have a surprise for you."_

_She relinquishes her hold on her son, who looks at her quizzically. Then a cautiously hopeful smile blooms on his face. "Montauk?"_

"_Montauk," confirms Percy's mother. "Let's go back there again."_

* * *

**Wooh, there we have it folks. Chapter 3 draws to a close. I hope you found it to be a worthwhile read.**

**I have to say, this story is definitely proving to be a labour of love. I seem to spend an awful lot of time plotting things out and double-checking things versus various wikis, or the Fate VNs etc. But despite the difficulty I'm having with it, I'm having a blast, so it's all worth it in the end.**

**One reviewer did point out in the last chapter that I'm taking too long to get to the world-jump bit. I have to admit, they have a point there, even if they didn't phrase it as nicely as they could. So sorry guys for dragging it out this long... I didn't realise just how long it would take me to get there. Rest assured, it won't be much longer until we get to the good bit. In the meantime, you have this final scene to (maybe) tide you over until then. I like to think it's at least semi-decent, at least. Plus it's a little teaser for what I have planned for the rest of the story.**

**In other news, ****Kuroshinobi 13 has kindly offered to beta-read for this story, to which I'm definitely thankful. I believe they'll mainly be focusing on the story-design side of things, so for the time being, it's up to me to keep on top of things with spelling and grammar etc. I know I'm far from perfect, so if anyone else would be interested in becoming a beta-reader and helping out with this story, please do let me know.**

**Now, since it's been a while since I updated my other story, I'm going to have to look at updating that one sometime soon. Unfortunately, that means it might take me a little longer than it should to finish chapter 4 of The Faker's Trials. Then again, I'll be aiming to make chapter 4 a little shorter if I can, so maybe not. (I've already fallen back into the trap of making my chapters gradually longer and longer. This one is almost twice as long as chapter 1. Trust me, it's a slippery slope).**

**Anyway, I think that's everything I have to say for now? Though it's probably gonna be the same as last time and I'll realise I forgot to say something in an hour or so from now. **

**EDIT: I realised what I'd forgotten. Two things really, which I remembered shortly after uploading, then forgot one of them? Firstly, I just want to apologise for the odd mix of British and American English that's inevitably gonna be in this story. I'm from the UK, so writing in British English comes more naturally to me, but since the Percy Jackson books are set in the US and I think the translation of the Fate novels is maybe in American English(?) I'll be using a bit of both. For the same reason, I don't know a lot about geography and stuff in the US... so I'm gonna have a fun time writing this story, I can tell.**

**As for the second thing... I'm sure it will come back to me eventually.**

**Anyway, as always, let me know what you think of this chapter. Was it good? Or was it bad? Were there any mistakes with spelling/grammar/lore that need changing? Your feedback helps to better myself as a writer either way.**

**Thanks for reading guys. In case I don't get another chapter out before the end of the year, I hope you guys have a good Christmas/New Years or whatever end of the year holiday you celebrate. Until next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

October 11th - 4th day Night

"Shirou. I understand that the current circumstances have you on edge, but was it really necessary for you to return early?"

That is the question that Saber asks me as I sift through my cluttered thoughts. A half-empty cup of tea rests in my hand, long since cooled past drinking temperature. My restlessly-bouncing knee knocks against the coffee table for the umpteenth time since I sat down, something which Saber is far from impressed with. The irritation in her voice when she'd excused herself almost an hour ago― citing that she was going for a bath― had been almost palpable.

It takes me a moment to recognise that the question was actually addressed to me and not just another complaint spoken under her breath. "It was. If what Caster said is true, we don't have a lot of time left. I have to be ready."

The fate of everyone in Fuyuki City is at stake. And I find myself in the unfortunate situation of being one of the handful of people that can do anything about it. Every fibre of my being is screaming at me to go out there, to protect them from this nameless enemy. But a sword needs a target in order to fulfil its purpose. How can I strike down an enemy I can't even see?

I stand, turning away from her as a groan of frustration rumbles deep in my chest. It's already been established that I can't do anything to prevent any more anomalies from occurring, only prepare and react to them when the time comes. The pressure of that unknown danger makes me restless. This feeling is no stranger to me; the only cure is to keep myself occupied, to bury myself in something that leaves no room for idle speculation. The question of whether to visit the dojo or give my collection of magic books another read through surfaces in my mind.

"Shirou…"

A feather-light touch brushes against the back of my hand.

I turn, meeting the troubled gaze of my Servant. Saber's lips part, then press together, as if she's wrestling to find the words she wishes for. Hesitantly, she wraps her fingers around my hand, gives it a gentle squeeze.

"This may seem wrong of me to say, but… I wish you had stayed after all," she sighs.

"How can you say that? Don't you understand exactly why I need to do things this way?"

"I understand why you _feel_ you need to do this. But I can't help but feel that your decision is… misguided."

I reel back in shock and she steps closer. Her hands move to grip my arms just above my elbows, denying my retreat. There is an intensity in her eyes that I haven't seen in a long time.

Actually, scratch that. I don't think I can say I've ever seen her look like this. While those eyes of hers are just as fierce as they were back in the Grail War, the emotion behind them is completely different.

"I…" Saber's eyes flicker away and back restlessly. She heaves a shaky breath. "When you first summoned me at the start of the Holy Grail War, I wasn't sure what to make of you. Back then, you were so unsure of yourself, so unfocused. But in recent months, you have grown so much. It has been the greatest privilege to watch you become the man you are. That is why I feel I must say something.

During my life, I always put the kingdom before my own needs, put aside my own desires for the sake of the people I ruled over. It wasn't until it all came crashing down that I realised what I had lost along the way. Back then, I gave up the freedoms and joys of life that I should have had… and now I see you doing much the same thing. The last thing I want is for you to make the same mistakes that I did. What I desire is for you to live your life not just for the sake of others, but for yourself as well."

An awkward chuckle escapes my lips. "I'm perfectly happy with what I do."

"Is that so? I have seen your face after you have helped someone. Many times even. You always seem content, satisfied even. But the only time I have ever seen you look truly happy is when you have been in the kitchen."

"That's not…"

_That's not true… is it?_

"There's nothing wrong with your dream, Shirou. If anything, I admire the compassion you show towards people you don't even know. However, that doesn't mean you can't be selfish from time to time. Tell me, honestly… is there not something else you desire? Something you long for, not for your dream, but simply to have as your own?"

Saber's gentle words filter into my ears, stirring thoughts I'd long since cast aside. I had asked such a thing of myself once, gone so far as to explore every opportunity to try something new, only to find that it was all of little interest to me.

…But she's always had a way of making me see things that I was incapable of seeing on my own. With a simple question, the foundations on which I have built my whole life crumble ever so slightly. Somewhere along the line, I had almost forgotten that there was supposed to be more to life than blindly following a dream.

I'm not sure why I'm only now thinking about this so deeply. Maybe it was the desperation in Saber's eyes as she gazed so deeply into my own. Or perhaps it was the sight of her freely-flowing hair, still half-wet from her earlier bath, glistening under the lights above, the lingering scent of citrus mixed with a more subtle, womanly aroma clouding my judgement. Maybe it was just her lingering touch and how easy it would be to just take her into my arms, given how close she is.

A little voice in the back of my mind quietly chimed in that I might well want to do just that. But did I have room in my life for something like that, knowing where my path might lead me?

Does someone like me deserve something so utterly perfect?

Under her expectant gaze, I feel compelled to say _something_, even if I have no answer for her. With the utmost effort, my jaw creaks open.

"I…"

Then the ringing of a bell overhead shatters the tender moment.

The fabric of the bounded field billows like a flag in the wind as a number of hostile targets pour across the perimeter. Five, ten, a dozen, _more_. The momentary disturbances give me an idea of their entry points, their mere presence here saying all there is to know about their intentions.

"Saber."

The Servant of the Sword stands to attention, having already materialised her battle attire. Her previous relaxed temperament has disappeared without a trace. Under threat from unknown entities, the woman who was once hailed as King of Britain stands steadfast, ready to take the field.

"What are your orders, Master?"

Just as she did back in those troubled days, Saber looks to follow my lead.

"...Sounds like these guys came looking for a fight. Let's not keep them waiting."

She nods grimly, falling in behind me as I tread down the hallway to the front door. The house itself makes for a poor battleground; so many entrances make it easy for our opponents to make use of their superior numbers to surround us. For the same reason, pushing out towards the rear of the building is just as hazardous due to how exposed it is, giving the enemy numerous ways to flank us. But we should be safe enough if we go through the front entrance… provided we do so quickly enough to avoid being attacked from behind.

The faint tinkling of shattering glass reaches my ears— that must be the sound of the windows being smashed in. They're already inside, then.

From the distant sounds of pounding and scratching, it seems the additional magic enchantments I deployed over the last few months, though minor, were enough to prevent them from coming through the walls at least.

_So they're strong enough to break through glass that's been put under minor reinforcement, but the same isn't true of the rest of the house?_

That was a good tidbit to know.

Even if we're short on time, I shrug my shoes on, not eager to go into battle in just my socks. As I do, something catches my eye― a long padded object that I had unearthed while cleaning the other day and summarily set to one side.

The sight of that ridiculously-shaped package triggers a light bulb inside my head. Gesturing for Saber to take point, I all but dive towards the package and hurriedly release it from its bindings.

As the wrapping falls away, I'm left holding a peculiar wooden rod. There is a slight bend about a third of the way along its length, marked by a white strip of cloth. A long string is secured to one of the two ends, which both curve sharply in the opposite direction of the middle bend.

Few people outside of Japan would be able to recognise what this item is. In fact, most Japanese people would need a second to work it out even. But me? I can recognise such a thing the instant I lay my eyes on one, even without the constant stream of information my magic imparts into my mind. What I hold is a Yumi― a traditional Japanese asymmetric bow. Back when I was still a part of Homurahara's archery club, this bow was my ever-present companion, one which I would hold virtually every day. Since then, it's been left to gather dust, albeit metaphorically since I've been careful to maintain it even so.

Despite myself, a smirk creeps onto my face. This bow is far from the most powerful in my arsenal, but the idea of using traditional Japanese weaponry to defend my home seems strangely fitting.

"Right then, let's—"

Gripping the bow at the marked position, I go down on one knee. I place the strung end against the ground, hooking the other end over my extended leg. Then, taking hold of the string with one hand, I force the shaft downwards with the other. The bow protests as I try to force it against its natural bend, so I'm forced to ease it into it with a series of increasingly forceful bounces. When my hand swoops low enough for my knuckles to almost graze the floor, I slip the loop of the string over the end of the bow.

I detach the quiver from the carry case and strap it across my back, noting as I do that it currently only holds a dozen arrows. That's fine… I shouldn't need more than one arrow per target.

Having retrieved everything I need, I stand. The combined weight of bow and quiver feel both alien and familiar after so long apart, but I'm still happy with my choice. My eyes flick up to meet Saber's, who's interposed herself between me and the doorway. If she thinks my choice of weaponry odd, she doesn't show any sign.

She tilts her head towards the door questioningly, to which I nod. Without a moment's hesitation, she turns. One armoured boot lashes out and—

The door explodes outwards as Saber kicks it through. I catch a glimpse of a shadowy _something_ before it's enveloped by a shower of wooden splinters. Whatever it is, it has time for one animalistic yelp before Saber shoots forward in a streak of silver and blue, cleaving it in two with her invisible blade.

"Shirou!"

"Right behind you."

I follow in the wake of my Servant, emerging out into the starry night. With an utterance of just two words—

"Trace, on"

And the mental image of a gun's hammer firing—

The magic circuits within me thrum to life.

Pushing magical energy into my limbs, my already considerable speed doubles, then doubles again. In a display of superhuman ability and an impossible leap, I top the gatehouse that serves as the entrance to the property.

I click my tongue in irritation. "The gatehouse offers the best view, but the height…"

Even at the peak of its roof, the guardhouse is not even twenty feet tall and the walls themselves are only about eight. If our attackers have even the slightest bit of supernatural strength, they'll have no trouble whatsoever in getting to me.

"But it's not like I have a lot of options. This'll have to do."

Another mental push sends trace amounts of magical energy to my eyes, which I weave into another reinforcement spell. The enhancement sharpens my vision, the shadows seeming to shrink under its influence. As I scan around me, my eyes are drawn towards the sounds of an ongoing battle, the nature of our enemies becoming clear.

_What the hell—?_

Down below, Saber faces off against multiple opponents. But now that I can get a clear look at them, I realise they're far from what I expected them to be.

Darkness coalesced into lupine form: that is the only way I can think to describe them. They appear to be nothing but mere beasts at first glance, yet there is something vaguely humanoid about them. If I had to say, then they look more like werewolves than forest-dwelling hunters.

Yes, that sounds about right… no beast walks upright as comfortably as on all fours.

With easy, loping strides, the beasts circle Saber, who stares back defiantly, despite being unable to track so many targets at once. Their smouldering eyes flaring brightly as their bloodlust builds ever higher. One such beast, braver than its comrades, issues a challenge against the unseen blade and its wielder in a screech outside my range of hearing.

Then it charges at Saber from behind.

"Saber!"

The beast swipes at her exposed back with its guillotine-like claws.

One blow. That's all it would take from those razor-sharp talons to rip someone open.

The claws descend as if in slow motion.

The Servant of the Sword turns. Then, in a motion as effortless as breathing—

She cuts the beast down with a single blow.

That motion is the trigger to break the deadlock. After the first beast is purged by the holy blade, the others bound forward as one, intent on finishing the battle before it's even begun.

But that's not something that Saber is going to allow.

The beasts converge on her in a flash of fangs, claws and paws, lashing out with every appendage and slavering all the while. But not so much as one hit lands as Saber dances like a reed in the wind, stepping aside just enough that each blow passes by her harmlessly. Her blade flicks out almost casually, parting shadowy flesh like a hot knife through butter, never once failing to strike its intended target. In the face of her overwhelming talent, her opponents may as well be frozen in place.

Though the stars above me are a sight to be seen, for me, Saber's radiance far outstrips theirs. For who she once was, who she's become and who she will be… that is a treasure beyond compare.

Just as I was on that fateful day, the day it all began, the Once and Future King has me bewitched, down to my heart and soul.

It is the strange burning in my chest that brings me back to my senses, makes me realise that I've forgotten to even breathe. I gulp down the air greedily, the chill in the night air restoring some degree of lucidity.

Turning my mind back to the task at hand, I channel energy into the bow in my hand, filling the vessel to the bounds of its capabilities, strengthening it beyond what it would normally be capable of. Without conscious thought, an arrow is notched, the string drawn back past my ear, my thumb barely grazing the corner of my mouth. The targets have already been chosen, the arcs for flight calculated with utmost precision.

The battle may as well be already over. The moment I fire is the moment my enemies fall.

I release the bowstring and let the arrow fly. I immediately nock a second arrow— readjusting both aim and power for the new target— and release. A third and fourth arrow are released in a similar fashion before the first has even landed.

The first arrow strikes as I'm in the process of readying the fifth, striking one of the beasts with a meaty _thwack_. The fletching pluming from the beast's throat makes its lunge towards Saber fall short, the force of the arrow having nearly separated its head from its shoulders. It gives a single hacking cough before collapsing to the ground, its ember-like eyes growing dim.

Four more arrows streak through the air, each meeting similar success. Between my rain of arrows and Saber's own efforts, the enemy's numbers thin quickly, until only lifeless corpses remain.

I cast a long, hard look around me. Nearly a full minute passes before I'm fully satisfied that there's no more of the beasts nearby.

My body relaxes somewhat, though there's still a sense of wariness within me. Our momentary reprieve could be shattered at any moment, after all.

Still maintaining my self-reinforcement, I hop down from my perch, briskly walking over to Saber, who kneels next to one of the corpses.

"What strange creatures…" she mutters. "Never have I fought anything like them, even during my lifetime when phantasmal beasts still walked the Earth."

"They didn't seem all that strong," I remark.

"Quite right," responds Saber. "I intentionally let one of them land a glancing blow… it could just barely score my armour— not an easy feat in itself. Yet they stood no chance against my blade. It is… counter-intuitive."

"Maybe they're just not cut out for fighting Servants. Normals and ill-prepared Magi though…"

Even someone like Rin could fall victim to them if she was caught by surprise.

I inhale through my teeth. "We need to go, Saber. If there's more of these things out there, then a lot of people are going to be in danger."

"Of course. Where are we headed?"

My unfocused eyes turn to one of the few intact corpses as I think about her question. Tiny wisps peel off its skin, the body disintegrating before my very eyes.

"I don't know yet. But if there are more of these things, we need to find them before anyone gets hurt."

"_Don't waste your time, boy. There is no-one left to save."_

As the cool, disembodied voice rings out from above, particles of light appear in a vast swarm. Drifting together like moths drawn to a flame, they quickly coalesce into the vague semblance of a person.

"...Caster?"

"_Who else?"_

The ghostly entity— _Caster?_— floats down to our level, coming to a stop a few inches from the floor.

"Uh… Caster? I know this isn't exactly the best time to be asking this but… why are you purple?"

"_Because what you're seeing is merely an astral projection, while my corporeal body is still inside the temple. I deemed it unnecessary to come here in person but realised that, while I _could _just speak to you telepathically, mortals cope poorly with such direct methods. Hence… __**this**__."_

Caster accompanies those last words with a self-directed sweeping gesture, a look of abject disgust on her angular, polygonal face.

"I see…" I say quietly, even though that only half-answers my question.

"Caster," Saber interjects cautiously. "What did you mean, 'it's no use'?"

Caster eyes Saber with a guarded expression, neither Servant having gotten over their mutual distrust for the other. _"I meant exactly that. Aside from yourselves and those of us here at the temple, there is no-one alive in Fuyuki City."_

"What—?"

Saber echoes my cry of shock.

"That couldn't possibly be the case!" "There's no way to know that!"

Caster huffs at our expressions of disbelief. _"Say what you will about my character, but don't doubt my abilities. Have you forgotten that I was siphoning the lifeforce from the people of this city during the war? I know well enough when someone is alive or dead and there is __**no-one**__ left out there."_

"But—"

I bite back my rebuttal with no small amount of effort. Ordinarily, I would be hesitant to take Caster's words at face value, but since we're no longer enemies, I'd like to think she would be above trying to deceive me now.

"Alright. So what do we do?" I ask.

"The first priority is survival, is it not?" Caster replies. "My enchantments have turned the temple into a veritable fortress and the few creatures that have made it to our doorstep fell quickly. However, there are many more lurking not too far away… it likely won't be long before they launch another assault, in greater numbers. If the two of you can make it to us, we should be able to hold out long enough to formulate an appropriate strategy."

I mull over Caster's words for a moment, looking for holes in her argument but finding none. "I guess that's the best thing we can do right now. But what about the other Servants?"

"_Hmm? Oh, the others… they are alive at least. They are of a different existence from the mortals and were likely unaffected by whatever befell them. From what I can tell, Archer, Lancer and Gilgamesh are somewhere in Miyama still, but there is some ...interference preventing me from discerning their exact location. Berserker and his Master are most likely hiding away in their castle."_

"We should try to get a message to them then."

"I concur," says Saber supportively. "Their strength will be invaluable."

"_As I said, I am currently unable to locate those within Miyama. And as for the Einzbern girl… it would take an exorbitant amount of my energy to cast a projection across such a distance. Energy that I cannot afford to waste at the moment. If you want to enlist their aid, you will have to contact them yourself."_

"...Fine, we'll find them ourselves. But you'd better hope we don't die, or you'll be in a pretty sorry situation."

"_Oh, I'm sure you'll manage somehow. I will give you this: you have a __knack __for surviving things you shouldn't. But I should leave you to it_— _ta ta for now."_

With a condescending smirk and a wave, Caster's projection fades away in the same manner that it appeared.

"...She seems far too happy about all this," I sigh. I seem to be doing that far too much recently.

I turn to Saber once again. "So, Saber… we have two objectives and limited time. On top of that, there's only two of us to do it."

She narrows her eyes at me. "I'm not going to like where you are going with this, am I?"

"I think we're going to have to split—"

"_No!_"

"—up," I blink. "Sorry?"

"I said no. It is far too dangerous for you to be alone right now. If we are going to do this, we do it together."

"We don't have time to do that, Saber. Unless we want to risk losing everyone that's left."

"But—"

"I'll be fine, Saber. I haven't been training all this time for nothing. But if it really bothers you, how about this: you go for the other Servants and I'll go for Illya. I'll keep my head down and avoid getting into any fights."

That's still not quite enough to mollify her, but with something approaching a pout, she gives a reluctant nod. "Okay. I don't like it, but I trust that you will stay safe. Just make sure you come back as soon as you are able."

"Of course. It's a promise," I say, with what I hope is a reassuring smile. "With any luck though, you'll draw all their attention and I won't even have to lift a finger."

For some reason, that joking remark seems to put a fire in her eyes. With a terse nod as an acknowledgement of my words, Saber dashes away in a rush of wind. The only sign that she was ever here is the boot-shaped craters where she was standing just seconds ago. However, something about the sound of collapsing buildings just beyond the courtyard tells me that she's not far away.

Even so, the empty yard feels a lot more sinister. My frosted breath mists in the air as I release a tense breath.

_Now then… what first?_

It would be best to get going before more of those things arrive. But before I do, there's one thing I have to try.

Extending my senses outward, I cautiously step through what's left of the doorway and down the hall, _listening out_ as it were for any more unexpected guests. Wooden splinters crunch under my feet, despite my best efforts to remain silent, but thankfully nothing leaps out at me from around the corner.

"Haaah… right, where is it now?"

Deep gouges have been taken out of the floor by the passage of clawed feet and most of the furniture buffeted from pillar to post. The side table I expected to see standing against the wall has been thrown across the room, the phone I expected to see on it—

"...Smashed, huh? Damn."

As much as it frustrated me that Lancer didn't have a mobile phone the other day when I wanted to talk to him, I can't ignore the irony of not having one for _myself _when I need it.

Hey, it's not like I don't see the importance of having one… it's just that there were other things that took priority. Even if Rider has a job of her own, the cost of living is much higher now that she and Saber are both staying under the same roof as me.

So there goes that idea. Guess it's on to Plan B.

Turning my back on the shattered remains, I step back outside. But just as I cross the threshold—

My bow catches on the door.

"...That's right. You don't belong out there, do you?"

A Yumi is a ceremonial weapon, used more as a medium for meditation than combat. The draw weight is too low to do much damage and due to its size, it's too cumbersome to be practical outside of an archery range. For all my fond memories with this bow, it's not something you should carry onto the battlefield.

With the greatest care, I lay it down across the doorway and offer up a bow. For some reason, it feels like this will be the only time I'll be able to do this. That's likely just superstition, but the fact that I never returned to the archery club again weighs heavily on me. If this is to be our final meeting, then I want to say…

_Thank you for your support. I'll take it from here._

* * *

The shroud of night has indeed settled over Fuyuki City, it seems. An already quiet residential neighbourhood becomes quieter still with the onset of twilight, the usual steady flood of activity dwindling to sporadic passings of the villainous and foolhardy.

But the oppressive weight of an unseen presence would serve to drive even those scant few away… if there were any to be found, that is.

_But they're gone, aren't they? That's what Caster said anyway._

The question is, did they disappear, or did the worst come to pass?

Questions burn away at my insides even as the bitter cold saps the heat from my skin. My feet drum out a repetitive pattern amid the clatter of room tiles, a series of steps with the sole aim of building momentum. The roof's edge approaches rapidly, the reddish tiles resembling a cliff's edge under the dim moonlight. On one side of the edge— a tangible surface to provide a _relatively _safe foothold. On the other…

A long drop with a sudden stop. Not somewhere any normal person would want to venture.

The intervening distance reaches zero, my foot coming to land at the edge of that lip. The muscles in my legs tense, driving my feet down with explosive force, propelling me high into the sky.

For one heart-stopping moment, I hang high above the ground as the world reels past at blinding speed. The wind licks against my face like the tongues of a thousand serpents, making the empty street below me seem all the more sinister.

Then my feet slam against the opposing roof and I stagger to stay upright. Just like that, that agonising moment of being completely exposed is over.

"Damn, let's not ever do that again."

Or so I say, knowing that I'll more than likely have to go against that assertion. As much as my abilities have improved, it's hard to suppress the innate fear of falling, even knowing that my reinforced body is more than capable of handling it. But wandering the streets at a time like this is just begging to be attacked. At least I should be _relatively _safe up here. Not only is the view good enough to make picking out enemies much easier, but the extra height should also make it more difficult for the beasts to get to me, giving me time to pick them off before a fight can even begin.

I mean, it's not like those things will be good at climbing…

Right?

A disturbing thought crosses my mind— one which I shake from my mind without hesitation.

Returning to the task at hand, I build up to a gentle run, hopping the much smaller gap to the neighbouring house, then the next and the next again.

Slowly but surely, I work my way further to the south-west, navigating across the rooftops of Miyama, gradually making my way up to the hilltop forests of Fuyuki. My perception is tickled every so often by the appearance of a presence in the middle distance. Whether in small groups or as stragglers, the beasts roam the streets— for what purpose, I don't know.

Every time those things pass by, my hands itch to cut them down… but my promise to Saber bars me from taking action each time. Instead, I keep my head down until they pass by, then hastily move on once they're at a safe distance.

Before I know it, I'm at the forest's edge, with the entire city sprawled out behind me. Miyama seems as dead as can be, my reinforced sight failing to pick out even the slightest bit of motion. On the other side of the river, however—

That sight alone is enough to send shivers down my spine.

A vast swarm of those phantom beasts.

An army stretching as far as the eye can see.

_What the hell… WHAT THE HELL!_

_This can't be happening!_

There is one thing and one thing alone preventing them from pouring across the rest of the city: the great divide that is the River Mion. This one natural feature impedes their progress, leaving them but one option moving forward— that being the artificial bridge, a human construction of all things.

That bridge serves as a bottleneck, funnelling a legion of undead corpses along a single, narrow path. There are outliers, of course… those that take their chances against the current and swim across— but the bulk of their forces are there, following the most straightforward path.

But straightforward though it is, they are not entirely unopposed. While _they _occupy one bank of the river, a small party of four stands at the other. Undaunted by the horde before them, this company of heroes resolutely repels the invaders' advance, cutting down the beasts in huge swathes. With a deluge of swords and arrows, the two at the rear carve gaping holes into the enemy's formation. The few beasts that survive the initial assault are dispatched quickly, first crippled, then executed by a combined attack of sword and spear.

Thus, an army is thwarted before it even reaches the shore.

The stalwart defence displayed by those four is a majestic sight indeed. But… for that very reason, I am on the verge of weeping.

A crimson ranger, firing a virtually-limitless stream of conjured arrows.

An azure partisan, striking from a distance with a cursed spear.

A demi-god wielding every treasure known to the world.

And a dragon in human form, vanquishing foes left and right with a holy Fae-made blade.

The defenders are undoubtedly the four errant Servants. Archer. Lancer. Gilgamesh. Saber.

Before any other foe, they would be unstoppable. But as quickly as those monsters fall, their numbers do not diminish in the slightest. Quite the opposite in fact— the longer the battle draws on, the more their numbers increase.

_Their _darkness continues to spread, quickly overtaking the Earth like an eternal plague, infecting countless victims.

For man, 'infinity' is merely a concept; a term used to describe that which exceeds the limits of human cognition. There is nothing in this world that is truly infinite, so the word is little more than a theory.

But these… _things_ are different from that incomprehensible idea. There cannot truly be an end to them. As long as one remains, others will split off from him— that much I can tell, just by looking at those beasts away from the front line. And even should the last fall…

The rift hanging high above Shinto will surely spawn more, to begin the cycle anew.

Less a hole and more a tear in the fabric of space, the gaping chasm in the sky is spewing forth a constant current of noxious substances that I don't recognise. Dark shapes writhe amidst the waste, clawing their way to the surface and dropping down to the street below.

I pick out one of these shapes and with a good look, finally recognise it to be another of those phantom beasts. The creature manages to escape the cloying muck and falls to the ground with a splat. I hope that'll be the end of it, but then it stands up, shaking itself like a wild dog and tails its fellows.

Yes… as valiant as the heroes' efforts may be, their resistance is ultimately futile. No matter their resolve, or their ability, their strength will fail them. Even should they survive the tenth wave, the hundredth, even the thousandth, eventually their reserves will run dry and they will be rendered practically helpless.

This battle will be one of attrition. Soon enough, their strength will fail them and they'll be forced to make a fighting retreat. Then an army of epic proportions will descend upon the last human refuge—

And everyone there will be taken apart, piece by bloody piece.

"Hah— gh—"

Transfixed by that overbearing aura of malice, I struggle to control my breathing. My joints feel rigid, like they've been locked into place with metal pins, but my muscles tremble with exertion as I command my body to move.

"There's no fighting that… but I _can_ slow them down."

Yes, that's all I can do. Caster seemed unaware of the enemy's strength, but all it will take is one look for that to change. Even if the woods around Ryuudou Temple hide Shinto from sight, there are other means of seeing from a distance. Familiars, Divination, Astral Projections… if Caster uses even one of these methods or any others she might happen to have in her repertoire, she and the others will know exactly what they're facing. They'll be able to prepare. All they need is time.

And while I may not be as strong a fighter as the Servants, I can still help to buy that time.

My mind made up, my muscles relax just enough to take a shaky step forward. Assessing the distance to the next rooftop, I brace myself to jump—

"_Oh? You plan to enter the fray then?"_

And with a sound akin to a tinkling wind chime, a most delicate facsimile of a bird glides down from above. Its glass-like wings flutter gently as it comes to a hover in front of me.

"_I wouldn't recommend that at all. You will probably end up dying… and finding a new big brother to spoil me sounds like too much work."_

So says the strange fake bird. Though I guess it would be more accurate to say that the precocious yet bratty voice is coming _through_ it, rather than from it.

"Illya… you're alive," I sigh. "I'm glad."

"_Hehehe. You should have already learned this by now, Shirou… but nothing gets past my Berserker." _The bird tilts its head— a gesture that comes across as either a shrug or a contemplative pause. _"I'm not so sure about the other Servants though. I mean, they're stronger than I gave them credit for before, but I don't like their chances against that many beasties. I give them a few hours before they start to get overwhelmed."_

"Yeah… it's not looking good," I say, glancing towards the distance battle. "I don't suppose you have any ideas of how to beat them…?"

"_Mmmm… blowing up that rift is probably a bad idea. You might just wipe this city off the map. Our best bet is to just try and survive until morning, I suppose."_

"Huh, morning? What makes you say that?"

The bird repeats that gesture again. _"Intuition. Something tells me that sunrise will give us the reprieve we need."_

That's an awfully roundabout way of saying that she doesn't have a clue. Though, coming from Illya— whose predictions are accurate to the point where I'd almost question if she's clairvoyant— I'd like to think it's something more than that.

"...Haah. Then, what we have to do remains unchanged."

That's right. It all comes down to just staying alive and living to fight another day.

"If that's the case, then there's even more reason for me to go out there Illya. The people I care about are in danger… I can't just sit by and let them get hurt."

Illya remains silent. Maybe she's surprised by my words… she's never really been able to understand my whole self-sacrificing 'hero' mindset, after all.

"_You really are a little messed up, you know… putting such importance on other people's lives,"_ she says quietly. _"I used to hate that side of you. In my head, I would call you a fool… but I think maybe I've come to like it just a little bit too."_

I mentally add, _'I just wish you'd spoil me a little more!' _to the end of that uncharacteristic admission.

Illya groans. _"I wasn't going to do this, but you leave me no choice… get back to the Temple as quickly as you can, I'll handle the rest. Berserkaah!"_

The garbled sounds of an explosion cause the bird-familiar before me to tremble.

"Illya?!"

"_Hmm? Oh, that was just Berserker breaking through the dining-room wall again. Nothing to worry about."_

Again? Is she seriously telling me this is a regular occurrence?

"What are you—?" Then it dawns on me just what she's planning. "Illya, no!"

"_What are you worrying about? With Berserker at my side, I'm untouchable. Make no mistake, I have no plans to die out here, Shirou. This is just a bit of routine exercise for me and my Servant, plus we get to slow these monsters down a little. I think that's what you'd call a win-win, yes?"_

"...Fine. But stay safe, you hear me?"

"_Yeees! Now get moving_—_ if you're where I think you are, Berserker will stomp over you in a few minutes. Oh, but no detours! If you do anything other than run straight there at full speed, I'll have no choice but to punish you."_

Now there's a terrifying thought. Though I'm not sure what I'm more scared of— Illya, or that hulking slab of muscle she calls a Servant.

Either way, I don't want to do anything to anger her. Against my better judgement, I turn away from the distant battlefield and towards the temple—

And I _run_.

Not at the measly pace I demonstrated earlier this night. If you were to compare my speed then against my speed now, it would be like comparing a gentle jog to a full-on sprint.

The power my legs are exuding right now destroys the ground beneath my feet. The air itself impedes my every step, the inertia of more-or-less static gases counteracting my motion. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was running through honey instead of air.

My bones creak with every movement— a sure sign that I've pushed my body to its limits with my reinforcement. If I could have gone further, I would have… that's just how urgently I need to reach my destination. But at the risk of causing my body to spontaneously explode, I don't dare to try my luck. Even so, I'm already moving at such a speed that my eyes and brain wouldn't be able to process what was happening if they weren't _also_ reinforced somewhat. A single bound does a lot more than take me across a street— in fact, I can almost clear an entire neighbourhood in an extra fast blink of my enhanced eyes. The few beasts that manage to spot me are left to eat my dust.

For just this one instant, I feel superhuman… maybe to the point where I'd be able to rival a Servant.

However, my magical reserves are running out quickly. Alarmingly so.

In fact, it remains to be seen if I will even be able to make it all the way back to the temple before I exhaust everything I have left. I guess that relying solely on my Od is unrealistic… so let's do something about that.

Knowing full well that I have a bunch of enemies on my tail, I slow down just enough that I can run without having to devote my entire focus on where I'm stepping. Reaching out to where my circuits dwell within me, I open myself up to the Mana that's ever-present in the atmosphere. It tingles against my skin— a vast wellspring of power that stems from life itself. Unlike my own Od, it doesn't belong to anyone… but you might say it also belongs to everyone since we are all a part of nature. And as part of the World, any Magus worth his salt can tap into that power, if they only know how.

Now, I've been called a third-rate Magus more than once. But despite that demeaning title— or perhaps because of it— I've learned a thing or two since the Grail War ended. Much to my shame, I had to impose on Rin more than I'd like, but it can hardly be helped.

So with my senses attuned in this way, I reach out to the Mana around me and _pull_. Reluctantly, it responds to my command, flowing towards me dribs and drabs. The process is slow— so much slower than Rin had expected when she first taught me this technique— but even so, the power seeps into me, drawn along by my circuits. Said circuits start to break down the alien energy, converting it into something I can use. It's not a lot, but it's enough to lessen the drain on my limited Od reserves.

My manipulation of Mana seems as limited as always it seems. The paltry amount of energy I gain from this technique makes it unsuited for using in my spells and useful only for supplementing my own reserves. Plus, the amount of focus needed to maintain this constant draw and conversion is… undesirable.

It's probably due to this divide in my attention that I fail to notice the building in front of me disappear at first. For a moment, just as I'm about to blink, its form seems to waver, as if a pane of glass between us is bending and distorting the light. Then in the split second that it takes for my eyes to close and reopen, the building is simply gone.

I blink again, my mind struggling to process this unexpected turn of events. Then my foot collides with thin air— _what should have been a perfectly solid building_— and I fall at breakneck speed towards the neighbouring house.

_How did I get myself into this mess?_— I ask as I shield my face against the rapidly approaching wall.

The inevitable crunch occurs, the rest of my body following in the metaphorical footsteps of my head, before I tumble back to the ground. At least there's a lovely bed of flowers to cushion my fall.

_A bed of flowers in place of a house? What is going on here?_

The lily delicately brushing against my face has no answers for me. Instead, it sways before an illusory wind, a gentle dance to soothe my aching soul. I stand up gingerly, eyeing the patch of meadow with a suspicious glare.

"You don't belong here," I tell it. My eyes drift to the street, drawn to the gentle sound of hooves clipping-clopping against the road. A white horse with a spiral horn jutting from its head walks by without a care in the world. "Nor you."

Half expecting there to be a dragon standing behind me, I turn around, only to find something even more out of place. A glittering spire reaching high, _high_ into the sky. Dark but for the lights running across its surface in fine, it bears little but hard edges that should seem crude in design, yet hold an unfathomable elegance in their arrangement. Undoubtedly a masterful work of engineering, hundreds if not thousands of years ahead of our time. "Oh… you _definitely _don't belong here."

What use is there in questioning what I see anymore? For that matter, can I even trust in the things I _do_ see? The things around me that I have taken to be constants have shown that they can change at the slightest notice and trade places with something that clearly doesn't belong. If that is the case, how can I know dreams from reality?

Do I need to go around expecting the ground to disappear from under me?

"_Be prepared for the unexpected…"_

Oh, how right you were Illya. But I don't think even you could have expected this.

"Then what _can_ I expect? '_Anything and Everything'_."

That's right. In a world that can change at a moment's notice, all I can do is prepare for anything… and not let my surprise paralyse me, no matter what comes.

With newfound focus, I leap back to the safety of the rooftops. Even if there's a chance that the buildings will disappear under my feet, it's still better to take advantage of the superior position while I can.

Throwing a quick glance around me, I continue making my way back to the temple, albeit a little slower this time. The once distant sounds of the rampaging beasts are closer now, piercing screams emanating from all around me. Or at least I think they are… the sounds are carrying strangely, making it hard to determine the direction, or distance of those reverberating voices. They simply sound like they're inside my head… one more reason to be wary, I suppose.

Concerned about the possibility of an ambush, I make sure to be extra vigilant as I dash over the rooftops. That, combined with my attempts to draw in Mana, slows me down more than I'd like, but I consider that a small cost compared to my life.

Before I know it though, I reach a familiar place.

I suppose you could consider it the heart of the city— or one of them, anyway. This is a place where every major path collides, a crossroads leading to my home, my school, Miyama's shopping centre and the Fuyuki bridge. A place that's seen many faces passing by.

_Will it ever see those faces again?_

The unexpectedly hopeless thought comes to my mind unbidden and is summarily banished. I have no room for such pessimism, only the desire to right the wrongs of this world. This place will see many people again. I will make it so. If I can't do that, I have no right to call myself a hero.

That is the declaration I make, as I stare at one of the nearby houses. There's nothing extraordinary about this house, it being one of the many homes I pass on my way to school. Except…

It's in a state of disarray. The door has been broken in, the windows punched through. Blood is smeared all over the yard, like a child's crude paintings on an otherwise pristine wall.

I know for a fact that if I look inside, I will see what's left of a massacre.

The strangest thing about it is that, despite the clear evidence that someone died here, there's no sign of any remains. Just a thin paste of rapidly congealing life-fluid splattered across every surface.

I elect to move on from this disconcerting scene. There's nothing more to be done here.

Having accidentally strayed further east than I'd like, I take the west-bound road towards the temple. But only a few seconds later, I glance back at the intersection.

There was no particular reasoning for it. I'd neither seen nor heard anything to draw my attention in that direction. It was simply an impulse, an itch I had to scratch before I could bring myself to leave. As it so happens, what I saw in that instant was enough to stop me in my tracks.

It was just the slightest glimpse. Something I could have just chalked up to my overactive imagination or even just a trick of the light. But something told me it was more than that.

Yes. With all certainty, I knew that what I had seen was real. The trail of bloody footprints leading away from that house only served to cement that belief in my mind. Two dozen child-sized footprints leading eastward.

At the entrance of a small sidestreet, their owner turns the corner. With a swish of her nun's habit, the silver haired girl disappears from sight.

A million different thoughts cross my mind in the blink of an eye. Denials and justifications, a multitude of reasons for why I shouldn't trust what I think I just saw, countered by an equal number of voices telling me I should check it out anyway. In the end, one thought rises to the surface, to dominate all the rest.

_She is still within reach. Save her._

I dive back down to ground level where I can run unhindered and sprint after the now out-of-sight little girl. I slide to a stop at the side street, a narrow opening that's only wide enough for pedestrians and cyclists to traverse, but nevertheless is well lit.

Or so it would be normally if all the lights weren't out.

The pale moonlight is the only thing illuminating the cramped space. A long road stretches onwards, littered with doorways leading into the buildings on either side, but devoid of all life, bar myself and one other.

Ahead, the silver-haired girl continues to walk down the street, oblivious to everything around her.

"Wait!"

My shout echoes loudly in the silence, my footsteps ringing out like thunderclaps. The distance between us halves and the girl turns.

Eyes like liquid gold glisten with unshed tears. Her small fists are clenched to her chest, minute tremors wracking her entire body. The expression on her face is desperate, vulnerable.

Pleading.

Her mouth forms words, but no sound escapes her. Even so, from the movement of her lips, I can tell what she is trying to say.

_Help me._

I stretch out my hand towards her, slowing just before the point of contact.

—Only for her to dissolve into shadows.

Before my very eyes, she disappears like smoke in the wind.

"..._No._"

Denial is my first response. A crushing sense of defeat and anguish are quick to follow.

There had been someone within my reach. Someone I could still have saved. And I'd failed.

That realisation serves to fan the flames of emotion within me that I had tried so hard to suppress. The fear of my loved ones being harmed. The concern for those that have been lost, spirited away by this phenomenon. The indignation towards those who would disturb our treasured peace.

Those smouldering embers ignite into a blazing pier of incandescent fury. Righteous anger that demands these invaders be erased from existence.

It can be said that there are two sides to the coin that is Justice. The first is Mercy, stemming from one's compassion. The second is something far more suited to the current situation:

_Retribution_.

As if on cue, the world around me twists. A wave of nausea washes over me as an invisible force presses down on me, driving the air from my lungs.

When everything settles, a chorus of keening howls informs me that I'm no longer alone. Ahead, several wolf-like shades prowl towards me. The clacking of claws on asphalt tells me there's more behind me and a quick glance up shows a number of them on the rooftops too.

So I'm surrounded by an entire pack of beasts, with no avenues of escape. Not an ideal situation, but at this moment I can't say I mind that. It gives me a reason to fight.

"You have made a great mistake coming here. Come… I will be your death."

I issue the challenge and the beasts don't hesitate to answer it. They charge towards me from both directions, eager to be the first to rip me to shreds. In the blink of an eye, they're already on top of me.

My mind shifts gears in a heartbeat. Where my thought processes were previously split between surveillance and deciphering the phenomenon around me, now I devote my whole self to battle. Drawing on all the skill and knowledge I've accumulated, the strategy practically assembles itself.

—_Trace on; begin projection_—

Motes of blue light swirl at my back, wireframe models of a multitude of swords faintly visible amongst the brilliant glow. But as the beasts draw ever nearer, a pair of blades call out to me, begging to be used. With a wry smile, I call up their image, readying them for duty.

When the beasts behind me draw close enough that the hairs on the back of my neck begin to tingle, I know it's time to act. A small pulse of magical energy is sent out, completing the burgeoning spell. The blue lights resolving into material form and under their own weight, several monstrous blades embed themselves into the ground. The massive towers of steel form a wall strong enough to arrest the beasts' momentum, the blades angled in such a way that the first of the beasts strike them side-on. Carried by their own power and force of those behind them ploughing into their rear, they are driven straight into the razor-sharp blades.

The beasts in front of me are lucky enough to avoid that fate, a similar wall of swords having failed to materialise before them. They are left to approach me at their will, until they are within striking distance.

Then in another flash of light, two swords settle into my hands. A sliver of moonlight and a shard of night streak through the air.

The twin falchions Kanshou and Bakuya carve a path through my foes.

The wall of bodies close in on me, but try as they might, they can't swarm me in the confined space. At most, only three can approach me simultaneously. But in doing so, they leave themselves no opportunity to evade to the side _or _backwards. Between the beasts' mindless assault and the monster-slaying blades in my hands, it's like shooting fish in a barrel. Dozens of tortured souls are sent to the afterlife within a mere minute, the slowly decaying corpses forming a rather impressive pile.

Then my enhanced hearing picks up a deep groan behind me, underlaid with intermittent cracking noises. It could be nothing, or it could be a sign of impending danger. Either way, I don't want to take any chances.

I summon forth another image and an enormous halberd springs into being. Dropping Kanshou and Bakuya at my feet, I pluck the weapon out of the air and drive back the beasts with a wide full-strength swing. Having given myself some breathing room, I project another set of giant swords to block them off.

Only then do I turn around to inspect the first wall, which seems like it might collapse at any second. The sheer weight of the bodies piling up against it and the increasing number of beasts at the rear look like they'll rip the swords from their anchors at any second. But even if they last, the steadily growing pile of bodies means the beasts will soon be able to just clamber over each other and clear the swords with ease.

Picking up the twin swords, I dispel the first wall of blades, drawing back a portion of the energy I used to make them before it has a chance to dissipate entirely. An avalanche of bodies pour towards me, some lying motionless but most still displaying some semblance of life through their wild thrashing.

I dash in before they have a chance to regain their footing, crippling and maiming as many as I can with well-placed strikes. Unfortunately, their state of confusion doesn't last long and it's back to the systematic culling. The floor beneath my feet quickly becomes slick with the ectoplasmic remains of the fallen, remnants that for some reason linger when all else has faded.

The second wall begins to creak just as the first did, another warning that my barrier is about to be overcome. I spit out a curse coarse enough to earn me a few stern words from Fuji-nee and repeat my earlier act of driving back the beasts, putting up the wall and turning to face the opposite direction.

"What—"

There are _more_ of them.

Far from their numbers being thinned by my efforts, there are even more enemies on this side than there were to start with. I suppose this is what I get for drawing them out earlier with my reckless sprint. Or maybe they were drawn here by the sounds of combat, or multiplied like those others I saw before? Regardless, things are going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, a shimmering in my peripheral vision catches my eye. Instinctively, I know things are about to get much worse. I turn my head towards the wall building on my left—

Which promptly disappears.

"..._Oh no_."

One of the obstacles stopping the beasts' advance vanishes. In its wake, a small number of the beasts edge around the now compromised wall of swords.

Before another larger wall of swords blocks them off, sealing the barrier again.

A hot flush runs through my body, my circuits protesting the sudden draw of energy. The slight tingling in my fingertips reminds me of the consequences of overusing my magic.

This is bad. Not just inconvenient, but outright dangerous.

I'd already used far too much of my energy with my rooftop antics, which I hadn't had any time to recover from. The enemy numbers only seem to grow while my constant reinforcement and projections sap my strength. Even my surroundings are against me, the structures that I've been relying on for defence fading away without a trace.

And quite possibly the worst thing of all, the beasts on the rooftops have still yet to make a move. They simply stand and watch, as if waiting for me to take a chance and jump up there with them. Whether by design or by chance, they've laid quite the effective trap. Does that indicate some base level of intelligence, or an acting force giving them commands?

To say I've been reckless is a gross understatement. In fact, I might have just backed myself into a corner that I can't escape.

I grit my teeth, a single drop of sweat trickling down my temple. The situation has changed. Fighting defensively is no longer the best strategy. If I'm to survive this, I either have to kill them all or fight my way to freedom. Brute force methodology… it'll have to do.

I project another copy of that nameless halberd and run a magic current through it, casting a reinforcement spell to slightly lower its weight and increase its durability. I don't need it to do anything fancy— as long as I can swing it again and again without it breaking and forcing me to project another weapon, then it'll suffice.

While performing a basic breathing exercise to prepare my mind, I turn my attention to my body. Other than some minor wear and tear from the continued strain of reinforced motion and combat, I've otherwise managed to avoid injury, which is a relief in itself. It should make this next step easier.

Cycling my magical energy through my body, I renew the current reinforcement spell I've placed on myself, redistributing the energy to where it's needed most.

Minor reinforcement of the eyes to take in visual stimuli. Moderate reinforcement of the ear canal to take in auditory stimuli. Moderate reinforcement of the brain for heightened cognitive processing. Maximum reinforcement of the skin for extra durability. Maximum reinforcement to bones, muscles and ligaments for increased physical performance.

I'm left practically on empty after using so much magical energy in one go. But as long as I limit myself to maintaining the reinforcement, it should be enough to last.

The air begins to pulse rhythmically, my vision swimming as the space around me distorts. It's a sensation I've come to associate with the world warps, but given that the effect is looping repeatedly, I imagine it's going to bring about some more extreme changes this time. In that case, now is as good a time as any to go on the offensive.

Pushing aside my reservations, I dispel all of my projected weapons bar the one in my hands, drawing back every bit of magical energy I can get my hands on. Then the horde of monsters washes over me like a tidal wave.

I shift my grip on the halberd's haft and widen my stance. The tension in my body builds as I twist my upper body, then release it all explosively in one go as I pivot on one foot, swinging the halberd in a full circle around me. The axe blade swings low, not so much cutting as crumpling the heads of the first wave of beasts.

The battle devolves into utter chaos from that moment. I drive back the shades with wide, powerful swings, as they search for an opportunity to slip inside my guard. Their claws and fangs yearn for my flesh, yet I drive them back with relentless attacks. All offence, no defence: such is my new mantra. A protracted fight isn't something I can afford now. My only hope is to blow through the enemy as fast as I can, to forge a path to safety.

A path back to that distant mountain peak.

To that end, I doggedly march forwards, evading attacks where I can and shrugging off those I can't. One shade's jaws clamp down on my left calf, but their jagged teeth struggle to find purchase and only leave some light scoring. A lucky swipe opens a narrow gash on my ribs. The pain is dull compared to some of the injuries I've sustained before, but even so, it's not insignificant. A red mist descends on my vision— some sort of berserker rage maybe?

Or not. Things are simply shifting once again.

When the red mist parts, everything has changed. A white fog surrounds me on all sides, my field of view reduced to a small bubble around me. Ghostly images of blackened trees break up the blur of white, smudges of ink of an otherwise blank canvas.

Unperturbed by the sudden change of scenery, the beasts mindlessly continue their assault, forcing me onto the back foot. Gritting my teeth, I put more power into my swings in an effort to drive them back. Beyond simply defending myself, I still see a chance of escape. Though it may be out of sight, my senses are telling me that safety is within reach, just beyond this wall of mist. So I plough through the beasts before me with hammer-like blows, putting one foot before the other.

Perhaps half a minute later, the red mist descends once again and the world around me undergoes yet another transition, one of many to come.

I stand in an open field, in a world where technology has yet to evolve past the medieval era. Proud castles stand in place of Fuyuki and regiments of Samurai drill in the fields, until a signal goes up and the fledgling warriors fall into formation at the sight of an unknown force.

Another flash and I arrive in a world where the arrival of an extraterrestrial object accelerated the growth of Humanity to levels beyond anything I could have possibly imagined. Amongst futuristic towers and flying cars, the battle continues on.

Atop the ruins of a hilltop civilisation, the crumbling stones of what might have been a great keep bears witness to one more battle.

It doesn't end there— dozens of worlds flash before my eyes, showing me glimpses of things could have been, paths that our world could have taken if only things had gone a little differently. The terrain is rarely the same; deserts, jungles, open prairies and places that could quite possibly be alien in origin. And everywhere I go, the beasts follow.

But against all odds, I notice that the beasts' numbers are thinning. Even as my limbs are shaking with exertion, I dispatch the last few stragglers, my battered and dulled weapon falling from my limp fingers.

My breath comes unevenly, the gash on my side smarting with the slightest motion of my chest. Once my breathing starts to settle and the dark spots in my vision fade, I turn my attention back to my surroundings.

My inexplicably, _absurdly _barren surroundings. Wherever this is, it's clearly not Fuyuki City anymore. Maybe not even Japan either.

Everywhere I look, the glassy sheen of water reflects the fading light of a setting sun. A level plain of white sand extends into the distance, while high above my head great streaky clouds race across the sky. Yet, for all the speed those clouds have, not a breath of wind touches me. This place is… serene in a way I've never known before.

I stand there for quite some time, just watching the clouds roll by. But after a while, I start to get a little restless. How long am I going to be subjected to this empty world?

With little else to do, I start to wander aimlessly in the hope that I'll find some way to escape this place, though I no longer feel like home is within reach. Each step rings out hollow, the sound of my footsteps muted and unsuited to the surface I tread on. The unchanging landscape plays havoc with my senses making it seem as if time itself is standing still.

After what feels like hours, something finally changes. Whether it's as a result of something I've done or something else entirely is not immediately obvious, but regardless, something changes. Without me realizing it, the clouds have scattered and blotted out the sky, while white specks drift down from above. A biting wind tears through my tattered clothes and steals the warmth from my bones. The sandy flats have given way to rugged hillocks, indistinct streaks of green marring the otherwise colourless landscape.

Ignoring the peculiarities of being dropped off somewhere completely unfamiliar, at least I can say it's pretty normal in comparison to some of the things I saw earlier this night. But that just leaves me with one question:

Where the hell am I?

* * *

**Now there you have it. After lingering all too long on the prologue, this is where things get interesting... not just for you guys, but for me also, since I now have to write about a fictional character in a country I've never so much as visited. Oh boy.**

**For things I want to quickly mention about this chapter, there's not an awful lot at the moment. First, Shirou's use of Mana... I haven't managed to find definitive proof that he can or can't use it, so for this fic I'm going with the headcanon that he can, but at a reduced level due to the nature of his magic.**

**Speaking of magic, I've started replaying the Fate/SN VN to recap and found a particular scene that confused me greatly. I won't go into detail right here for people who haven't played it, but it's regarding the final confrontation of UBW. If anyone who's familiar with it could PM me and help clear up some things, I'd appreciate it. (I also may or may not have a couple of questions or so regarding certain aspects of Shirou's other abilities, but they're secondary for now).**

**A big thanks to Berix for proofreading this chapter... and just generally offering advice on a lot of other things too. You're a lifesaver.**

**And finally, my first fic on this site officially turned 1-year old last month, so... happy anniversary to me?**

**As always let me know your thoughts. Did you like this chapter or did you hate it? Please leave any suggestions or any mistakes you've spotted in a review. I... think that's it for now. Wow, a nice short closing AN for once. **

**Ciao.**

* * *

_If you like what you read here, please consider supporting me on P.A.T.R.E.O.N. _

_P a treon TheEternalEscapist_


	5. Chapter 5

The sense of numbness gradually recedes, my aching fingers returning to their usual range of motion. The steady stream of warm air washing over me serves to drive the pervasive cold from my body but does little to clear the frosted windscreen in front of me, mostly limiting my view to the inside of the cab that I now find myself in. But between the feel of the truck's engine and the sound of the air whistling past, I can at least tell we're still in motion.

"Thanks for picking me up, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't stopped for me," I say, warming my hands from the car heater.

"Ahh, think nothing of it. I know us Americans can seem rough on the media, but we're a good lot. Plus what kind of person would I be if I left a kid outside to freeze in a New York winter?"

My companion is a middle-aged man, currently sat behind the wheel of a 2001 Ford F-250, with myself being his only passenger. His brown hair is touched with grey, but he has the build of a working man. If I had to, I'd probably paint him as a lumberjack, or belonging to an equally-demanding profession.

As it stands, we're currently cruising down a narrow forest-lined road. The radio blares out some western country-style music, twangy vocals and instrumentals galore. If I'm honest, the singer's woes of being unable to pay his bills go in one ear and out the other - the fact that I'm able to understand the English lyrics with perfect clarity is a far more immediate concern.

My sudden ability to fully comprehend a language I'd only had a passing knowledge of is but the first sign that something has gone horribly wrong.

"Now, I know it's impolite to pry too much, but I have to ask… what got you so beat up anyways?"

* * *

_In the dead of night, I stumble through a wintery hellscape. The flickering light of a flaming sword does little to light my way, inadvertently turning the dense forest into the scene of a nightmare. Both light and darkness move in tandem, my __overactive/hyperactive__ imagination picking out illusions of twisted beings in the shadows my torch puts out._

_Snowdrifts and gnarled hidden roots __snag __at my feet, making every step more laboursome than the last. A voice in the back of my mind begs me to stop, to simply lie down and __recuperate__. But the frigid wind won't __offer/show__ any mercy just because I'm tired, won't stop sapping my strength no matter how unfair my circumstances. Only my exertions and the heat put out by the magical energy circling through my body can hope to keep me warm._

_I know that if I stop now, I'll never get up again. There is no shelter here that can protect me from this cold and my reserves won't last forever. If I can't find my way back to civilization, then I will die, my body freezing until I slip into eternal slumber._

_So I keep going, relentlessly searching on into the night._

* * *

I involuntarily recall the events of the last few hours. I wouldn't go so far as to call stumbling through a forest at night the most traumatic thing I've been through, having experienced much worse during the Grail War, but it's not something I'd want a repeat of any time soon.

"...I went out for a hike and got lost. Had a run-in with some wolves."

The man glances over at me, clearly taking in the clean, almost surgical cuts on my clothes and dried blood splattered all over me. "...Whatever you say, kid," he says, suspicion practically dripping from every word.

His nickname for me reminds me of the second peculiarity with my situation. If my estimate is right, my body appears to have regressed in age to around thirteen or fourteen years old. A bit of a change, since just a day ago I had been on my way to my eighteenth birthday. It'd taken a little time to get used to my new height, but at least the weight loss made trudging through the snow a lot easier.

"So you wanted New York City, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," I hum distractedly.

_Aaaand,_ strike three. Ding ding, you're out!

Yes, that's right. As I discovered earlier when I found my first real road, I've somehow been relocated to a completely different _continent._ It's absurd… no, it's beyond absurd, it's utter insanity. If I hadn't already been aware of the supernatural side of the world, I would have already begun to question whether or not I was losing my marbles.

Then again, does someone who's truly insane have the presence of mind to question their own sanity?

I shake my head. Now isn't the time to be contemplating how I got here. The first port of call is to get somewhere safe, _then_ I can think about the hows and why and then finally, find a way home.

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be alright here, kid?"

'Here' happens to be a busy street corner in Upper Manhattan. Having pulled up outside a rough-looking office building, my chauffeur pointedly ignores the sounds of protest in the form of honking horns from the cars behind us. Could be that someone is a little peeved about having to veer around us, but if the constant clamour is any indication, then this din is likely the norm here. In that case, I imagine it's something you simply grow used to over time.

"This is as good a place as any," I reply. The uncertainty within me thankfully doesn't make itself known, my words seemingly instilled with confidence. "I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride."

I pop the door and hop out before he has the time to object or realise the folly in letting a young teen go out into a big city by his lonesome.

"Wait."

He calls out to me before I manage to take two steps. Grudgingly, I turn back to face him, in time to see him reach into an inner pocket of his flannel shirt. Leaning over the gear stick, he passes over a small, thin object.

I take it from him, hesitantly. Several lines of fine text are printed on one side, advertising the services of one George Moore, 'professional woodworker and lumberjack'. The lower-left corner is occupied by a miniature, full-figure picture of the man behind the wheel.

"A business card?"

"If you get into trouble, gimme a call. I'll do what I can for ya."

For a moment, I just stare wordlessly back at him, struck dumb by his unexpected display of kindness. Not for someone familiar, but for a complete stranger going through a rough patch. A _very_ rough patch with no small degree of danger involved. But even knowing that it might end up bringing trouble his way, he offers a helping hand.

My throat inexplicably dry, I just nod silently, even as I mentally vow to never involve the man in anything except under the direst of circumstances.

The Ford pulls away, somehow disappearing into near-stationary traffic as if it's an empty road.

And just like that, I'm alone. Or as alone as I can be in a city of roughly eight million people.

Well, no sense waiting around, I suppose. It's time to get to work.

* * *

Three hours later I find myself sprawled out on a park bench, absently wondering why I'm staring up at the sky.

I had intended to just take the weight off my feet for a minute, but it appears my body had other ideas. Evidently it had had enough and decided to take matters into its own hands… and feet. And everything else.

My chest deflates, continuing to do so until there's no air left in my lungs. The ultimate sigh of a man who has reached the very end of his rope.

I had attempted to find a homeless shelter to spend the night in, but after checking with nearly every single one in a kilometre's radius - _as well as a few restaurants in case they needed a helping hand -_ I have nothing to show for it. Alas, every single one had turned me down. 'No room in the inn' indeed. Now if only there was a donkey to carry me around everywhere. Or failing that, a stable with a clean bed of hay.

"Oh, who am I kidding… there's no messiah to save me here."

My vision goes dark, as sleep tries to claim me. I attempt to fight it off, but my resistance proves futile and my eyelids slowly close, as if drawn together by an invisible force. Before I know it, the abyss of sleep encroaches upon me, swallowing me whole in its chasmous maw.

* * *

A chorus of monstrous growls tears me from my restless sleep in a most rude awakening. I instinctively grab at the air, reaching for swords that don't exist, whilst simultaneously managing to throw myself from the bench with my thrashing. If I wasn't awake before, the hard crack of my skull meeting concrete certainly makes sure of the fact.

Rolling to my feet, I take everything in with one quick sweep of my eyes.

Location: Park. A bench at my back, greenery on either side of a wide path.  
Time: About three-pm. In other words, an hour has passed since I fell asleep.  
Source of disturbance: Unknown entity. Presumed hostile.  
Location of perceived threat: Middle distance, off the path and concealed by foliage.

Okay, so I'm not in _immediate_ danger. However, with my luck, I can't bank on things staying that way for long. If the proximity of those ungodly noises are any indication, then the chance of being assaulted by vicious beasts in the near future is uncomfortably high.

Suffice to say, the prospect of such an encounter is far from appealing, given my recent experiences.

Realising that I probably have a few seconds before things start turning south, I quickly debate on what I should do. Without doubt, the safest course of action would probably be to heed the primal instincts within me and hightail it in the opposite direction, thereby putting as much distance between me and whatever's on the other side of these trees as possible. However…

_What if someone's in danger?_

And there's the crux of it, the one thing that might cause me to hesitate in such a situation: the thought that someone else might suffer for my inaction. I'd decided long ago that I would do everything in my power to ensure the safety of others, even if it meant putting my life on the line. Could I live with myself if I ran now, only to later find out that someone else had been hurt?

Probably not. Therefore, I can't leave here without at least investigating the source of the noise.

"...Trace on."

A white-hilted dagger appears in my hand in a gentle shower of blue sparks. I channel a trickle of magical energy into the blade, cutting off the flow as the accumulated energy reaches the appropriate level.

In the fading light of a setting sun, darkness creeps along the floor, shadows congregating around me until I fade from sight. Cloaked in a shroud of darkness and visible only as a greater darkness in a mass of shadows, I carefully tread towards the source of the noises.

The growling grows unnervingly loud as I grow nearer. If the sheer volume of those beastly noises is any indication, then the origin of those noises is likely a pack of wolves of ungodly size. _Why, oh why did it have to be wolves?_ Couldn't it have been literally anything else? Something cute, like a group of giant rabbits, or something cool like a dragon? At this point, it honestly feels like some higher power is deliberately sending the creatures after me with the goal of reaping some form of twisted entertainment.

In the midst of my mental anguish, my PTSD-addled mind registers another sound just on the edge of my hearing. It's… different from the first but for some reason I can't quite explain, no less chilling to hear. It rises and falls in tone and pitch, constantly shifting in ways that are impossible to predict. Yet, as strange as the noise is, there's still something recognizable in it, something about the pattern of noise that's almost rhythmic.

After listening closely for a few more seconds, my mind supplies a word: syllables.

Words, then. Someone— or rather _two_ someones are lurking just beyond the treeline. And from the hushed, sibilant whispers, it would seem they're engaged in conversation.

"Fuhuhu. Look, look how ssshe tremblesss," a voice hisses. "Don't be afraid, little one, you'll be in our belliessss before you know it!"

"Fool, ssstop playing with your food and finisssh the brat already!" interjects another.

Spurred on by those alarming words, I push through the underbrush as aggressively as I dare, hoping that any noise I make will go unnoticed over the noises that even now the beasts are producing. Then at last, I discover exactly what's waiting for me.

In the small clearing amidst the trees lurks a small party of what appear to be Phantasmal Beasts: A pair of giant hounds hover by the treeline, their dark, charcoal-coloured hides quivering in barely-contained excitement; a harpy perches atop a fallen tree, preening mud-brown feathers disinterestedly; and finally, a pair of vaguely female-looking humanoid creatures with snake-like trunks instead of legs stand over a small girl with dark hair. Backed up against a large oak and hemmed in on all sides by the Beasts, it's clear she's trapped between a rock and a hard place.

The first of the snake-women turns to her companion. "Why ssshould I?" she snaps. "I prefer to eat my mealsss with a ssside of _fear_."

"We don't have time for thisss," the second spits. "Do you forget what we're here for? The Master won't tolerate failure, especially on account of your ssstomach."

The first hisses angrily, spewing out a slew of words in a foreign tongue. "Fine. But if one of those little campersss falls into my handsss, I'll be assure to have some fun."

As one, the two turn to the girl, their posture suddenly that of a predator. The hungry one moves to draw the blade hanging loosely at her side—a grey-brown shortsword that looks far too crude to slice cleanly. However, that's as far as she gets. Before the sword halfway clears its sheathe, I've tucked Carnwennen down the back of my jeans— carefully ensuring the blade remains in contact with my skin to maintain the illusion— conjured up a nondescript longbow and fired my first shot.

The blackened arrow streaks through the air and takes the snake-woman in the back of the neck, severing her spine and killing her instantly. Her companion looks on in shock for a half-second, just long enough to watch as she begins to dissolve before her eyes before my next arrow comes for her.

To her credit, she reacts quicker than I would have expected. Pirouetting with as much grace as one can have when you have snakes for legs, she moves just enough that the arrow that should have taken her life instead cuts a furrow along the side of her face. A no-doubt painful wound, but still non-lethal.

Or so I would have thought, anyway. What I hadn't accounted for was the possibility that the injury would suddenly ignite in what I can only describe as _the holy flames of the damned_. The white-gold flames quickly flare up, quickly consuming the creature's muddied locks and sending her into a blind panic.

The two beasties finally cotton onto the fact that they're under attack and dart wildly towards the trees, neither one managing to actually pick the right direction, though by sheer luck one of them comes fairly close. Blind to the true threat, both prove to be easy pickings and fall with one well-placed arrow apiece.

The harpy, on the other hand, ends up being somewhat challenging to take down. At the first sign of danger, the craven thing took to the skies. By the time I turn my attention to it, it's already cleared the trees and put a respectable distance between us.

Not far enough though. I take aim once more and fire one last time.

The harpy tumbles from the sky, crumbling to ash as gravity's pull brings it to rest in a rather spectacular fashion. The cab driver unfortunate enough to be in its path is no doubt greatly confused as his car is briefly engulfed in a white cloud.

Silence descends on the clearing, the battle over as quickly as it began. Yet, I'm not so quick to let my guard down. For several painfully long seconds, I maintain my vigil, eyeing the dissolving corpses just as intently as the treeline, straining my ears for the slightest sound of movement. Another arrow is already nocked, ready to fire at the slightest indication of hostiles.

A pained groan draws my attention to the downed snake-woman. The fires that had so quickly availed her seem to have spluttered out, leaving behind a swathe of raw scorched skin. Given the severity of her wound, I think it's fair to say she's unlikely to be getting up any time soon.

I briefly contemplate putting her out of her misery - a mercy-kill if you will. But just as my fingers start to draw back my bowstring, I think better of it. No… I have a better idea of what to do with her.

I step out into the open, finally satisfied that I've cleared the area. Then - not even bothering to mask the sound of my approach - I saunter my way over to her.

Slitted eyes widen in alarm, gawking at the indentations left in the earth by my shoes and the sinister human-shaped shadow steadily creeping along the floor.

"Ssstay back! I'm warning you!"

I disregard her pathetic attempt at intimidation, of course. She already knows just as well as I that she's not in any position to be making demands - not when she's near-incapacitated and with her weapon halfway across the clearing.

She opens her mouth yet again, but shuts it just as quickly, no doubt dissuaded from speaking by the sudden sensation of a hidden something hovering a hair's breadth from her throat. Though it's not quite touching her skin, she still clearly recognises the feeling for what it is - the distinct threat of a blade waiting to part flesh.

"I see you understand exactly what your situation is now… good. We need to have words, you and I. And things will go so much more smoothly if you just spare me the unnecessary chitchat."

My words are much like my blades - razor-sharp and succinct. From the get-go, I make it clear that I'll brook no argument.

Her chin jerks minutely in the beginnings of a nod, before she remembers the blade beneath her chin and thinks better of it.

"Ssspeak, then. Asssk what you will and leave me be."

"That remains to be seen," I growl. "I'm not fond of those who'd make a meal of innocent children."

"Innocent, you sssay?" she snickers in what I assume to be the way her kind laughs. "Clearly, you don't know much at all. Thisss isss the natural order of things… it isss our nature to fight and to feed on our enemiesss. If you take offence at that, thisss conversation will be far from productive."

I mull over her words a moment. "I suppose you're right. Very well, tell me what I want to know and I'll let you go. And make sure you don't… _embellish_ the facts, won't you?"

Focusing my attention on the copy of Carnwennan for just a moment, I dispel the illusion that even now is hiding me from sight.

It was a spur of the moment decision, but not one made without purpose. In truth, I'd been compromised from the moment I'd stepped into the open. Carnwennan was one of the three weapons gifted to King Arthur in the original Welsh depiction of the Arthurian Legends. It's an exquisitely made blade, as most-all Fae-made items are, but its true worth lies not in its form, but in the power it grants its wielder; the ability to clad oneself in shadow and become one with the night.

On paper, it seems to be a godly power. In practice, however, it's nowhere near as useful as one might think. Unlike true invisibility, which makes one completely indiscernible to the naked eye, the cloaking effect is actually closer to camouflage - one that blends well into the surrounding darkness.

In a well-lit area with little in the way of shadows, nor physical obstructions to aid the illusion, such an ability is next to useless. Now that I'm no longer in cover and silhouetted by the fading light of the sun, the best Carnwennan can hope to do is mask my features, not my presence itself.

So there's reason number one: the simple fact that there's no reason to maintain my disguise anymore.

But that brings me onto reason two.

All too quickly, this turned from a battle to an interrogation. My subject has already seen what I'm capable of. Now I need to show how much further I'm willing to go.

I need her to see the ease with which I hold my blade; the almost casual manner in which I'm crouching beside her, as if there's nothing in the world that can touch me.

I need her to see the steel in my eyes.

She stills, her eyes - up until this point trying to catch a glimpse of Kanshou at her throat - rising to meet mine.

A beat passes. Two.

She shivers slightly. "Very well. The truth and nothing but the truth."

_Too easy._

"What is your purpose here?"

"Procuring a sssnack. Wasn't that obviouss?"

"You expect me to believe you're just here to satisfy your appetite? With a child, no less?"

"What else? Children make for such tender morselsss. Their flesh - _sssso tender, sssso ssucculent!_ \- it just fallsss ssstraight off their puny bones."

My stomach churns, my skin flushing hot with outrage. Kanshou creeps slightly closer to her neck before I rein it in, a sudden urge to end her momentarily overpowering my better judgement.

How many innocents has this one creature killed? How many have had their children stolen from them, consigned to being forever ignorant of their fate? What must those children have felt in their final moments as they watched their death approaching, slithering ever closer with hunger in its eyes?

This… this is a monster that feeds off fear and pain.

"_Delightful_," I growl. "I take it this is a good spot for staking out your next meal?"

"I wouldn't know. We're not from around these partsss."

"Really? In that case, what reason, pray tell, would you have for coming here?"

Evidently my rather pertinent questions have led us to a topic she'd rather avoid - though she'd been rather frank until this point, she quickly clams up and levels a rather blank state towards me.

Three seconds. That's how long I give her to answer. But when those three seconds pass and she still stubbornly refuses to answer, I take the opportunity to remind her once more of her position.

I raise my right hand ever so slightly, until Kanshou's flat face comes to rest against her jaw.

The she-monster flinches as the cold steel of the blade in my hand comes into contact with her skin for the first time - or the second time I suppose, if you count the arrow I shot her with earlier. Which I don't.

With an almost indifferent air, I caress the skin just behind her chin with the blunt edge of my blade. The action is casual, almost intimate even, if not for the implied threat.

In the face of it, her stubbornness soon crumbles. "We were to be part of a ssscouting party. To test the defences of those pesky campersss."

"Campers?"

I'm taken aback by the unexpected answer, speaking out reflexively in my confusion.

That was not what I was expecting her to say, not at all. But rather than feign possessing prior knowledge on the matter, I unintentionally disclose my complete ignorance.

It was a mistake.

A slight narrowing of the eyes and the barest tilt of the head set my mental alarm bells ringing.

"Oh? You don't know?"

There's a subtle undertone to her words that wasn't there before. Her gaze becomes… calculating, as if she's sizing me up. She takes one deep breath through her nose.

"Interesting… very interesting."

"Don't," I warn her.

"Don't?" she cackles. "You know what, boy? I think you're just full of bluster. And I'm tired of playing games!"

She latches onto my right hand with her own clawed appendage and lunges towards me, her toothy maw widening to the point where she could wrap her jaws around my head. Even though I was pretty much prepared for it, the speed and sheer strength in which she does it despite the lack of leverage from her prone position almost overwhelms me.

Almost.

The moment my reinforcement kicks in is the moment she realises she made a terrible mistake. The half-second look of horror on her face as I first halt, then reverse her assault single-handedly is picturesque. Then that moment is brought to an end as her decapitated head falls to the ground.

"Idiot. You had to go and make things difficult, didn't you?" I sigh.

Her disintegrating corpse fails to answer, for obvious reasons. I clamber to my feet, once again feeling the disconcerting vertigo of my altered proportions. The chatter of birdsong starts up once again - a sign that the coast is clear, if ever I saw one. In fact, you would never think that those… _creatures _had ever visited this place, if not for my memories on the contrary. To think that Phantasmal Beasts still resided in this world... _and in New York of all places!_?

A faint shuffling sound breaks me out of my musings. _Of course, how could I forget?_

She's still cowering there. Wide-eyed and wary, looking like she might bolt any second. Those eyes of hers are in constant motion, looking first at my own eyes, my hands, the set of my shoulders, the position of my feet. She's watching me, waiting to see what I might do next.

'Friend or foe?'

How can someone's eyes be so expressive? To be so clear that one look is enough to tell what she's thinking. It seems to me that if I look hard enough, I might be able to peer into the very recesses of her soul.

I don't do that, obviously. That would be just creepy.

Instead, I give her my best disarming smile, lowering myself on one knee in a bid to look as non-threatening as possible.

"It's okay, little one. You're safe now."

I make no moves to approach her, knowing that'd likely freak her out even more. Rather, I simply speak softly and observe her reaction carefully.

In the end, my intense scrutiny proves entirely unnecessary. However, it does let me watch with perfect clarity the change that overtakes her features, the way her eyes tighten and her jaw clenches hard enough for the muscles to become taut.

Then she launches herself at me.

It happens as if in slow motion, a sight that will no doubt be seared into my brain until the day I die. Her tiny fists bounce off my chest in a barrage of ineffectual punches, her earlier fear discarded for irrational rage. And with it, a vile string of curses pours from her lips, a conglomeration of expletives so imaginative that even the most foul-mouthed sailor would be proud.

I clamp my hand over her mouth mid-spiel, cutting off her speculations regarding my ancestors and the immoral acts they may or may not have committed with various sea creatures.

_Why? What happened to the younger generation?_

Kids grow up so fast these days. Too fast. Give them back their innocence, goddamn it!

* * *

"You calmed down yet?"

"Shut it, asshole."

Harsh words, but at least she's stopped cursing at me… progress, at last!

After a brief tussle where I was almost forced to knock her out, the two of us are now sitting on the very same bench that I was making use of earlier. The sun has still yet to set, though it's closer to the horizon than it was before. With the fading light, winter's chill has become much more pronounced.

I cast a quick glance over to my… I guess 'companion' would be the most appropriate term. She's looking out across the park, following the handful of people that are out and about with her eyes while cheerily gobbling down a handful of berries from a pouch at her belt. I say cheerily - while her expression is rather sullen, it's impossible to miss her gently kicking legs.

Looking at her as she is, you'd never think of her as a child who'd just emerged from a life-or-death situation and narrowly avoided being eaten alive, nor someone who's in danger of freezing to death. Seriously, how is she not cold?! Barefoot and wearing a light green sundress that doesn't even cover her shoulders, yet she's not so much as shivering. Just looking at her is giving me hypothermia.

No, no. I'm letting this distract me from the far more important issue _of freaking monsters trying to eat people. _If I'm going to ask her about anything, it should be that.

"I… if it's alright, can you spare a few of those?"

_Whyyyyy?! Treacherous stomach, why must you betray me now?_

Because it's been about nineteen hours since I've eaten anything and the drain of consistently converting my lifeforce into magical energy has left me beyond famished... that's why.

The girl gives me a filthy look but grudgingly allows me to pick out a few blackberries from her stash, brushing off my thanks with a curt 'don't worry about it'.

"So…" I start. "What's the deal with those monsters? And why were they trying to attack you?"

She shrugs dismissively. "They're monsters… that's what they do. When they're not trying to restore what they've lost over the last few thousand, they find ways to amuse themselves. They seem to like playing with humans the most - nothing like tormenting supposedly intelligent creatures and driving them to insanity, I suppose. Plus, most people can't see the monsters anyway… not for what they really are."

"They can't see them?" I ask. "Why?"

"Because their sight isn't sharp enough," replies my companion flippantly. A peach suddenly appears in her hand and she gives it a long hard look, much like Hamlet with the skull of a certain former jester. For some reason, she turns her head to give me a considering look. "In fact, even those who _can_ see them are more often than not unable to so much as scratch them. Whatever those arrows you used were made of, you got lucky. Very lucky."

"I see…"

And I do. I see the horrible picture painted by a few scant sentences.

Supernatural entities that, back in Japan, are thought to be nothing but the work of fairy tales currently roam the land, unchallenged solely because they hide in the shadows. Man may have spread their influence across the entire world and crafted great weapons of war, but without a clear target to bring that force to bear…

I've said it before and I'll say it again: a sword needs a target to fulfil its purpose. Even if said sword is strong enough to decimate an entire world.

Then again, even if they could face this enemy head-on, would it be enough? If these monsters can't even be touched by conventional weaponry, there's very little that mere mortals can do to oppose them. The Mage's Association must be mad, to allow Phantasmal Beasts as strong as these free reign. Either that or they really dropped the ball.

A sudden thought crosses my mind, my mouth turning dry as a desert as I mull over its implications.

_Most weapons are incapable of harming them._

That concept is bad enough for most people. But what about me, someone who's permanently armed to the teeth with a vast arsenal of legendary weapons? If I had used any other Noble Phantasm earlier, would it have been proven to be entirely ineffective?

Surely not. The Noble Phantasms I have under my command are undoubtedly some of the most powerful weapons in existence. They are nothing less than the symbols of power for many legendary figures throughout human history, artefacts that through the faith of a Heroic Spirit's believers have become something... _more _than a mere weapon. Even discounting the more powerful armaments inside my Reality Marble, I still have access to a significant number of mystic codes that are nothing to scoff at either.

No, the idea that I have nothing capable of harming them is absurd… but that doesn't mean my weapons would work as well as they should either. If the legends of my weapons have to contend with and war against the very nature of these monsters - which dictates that they can't be slain by normal means - then it's inevitable that my blades should perform beneath optimal capacity.

If that's the case, why did my arrows work so well earlier? What's so special about them that—

Ah, that's it. Although it's severely degraded, my projected forms of Kanshou and Bakuya happen to possess the same anti-monster affinity of the true ascended blades. Even if they're supposedly less effective against monsters in the traditional sense, their inherent mystical properties are enough to compensate for their physical shortcomings.

However, not all of my weapons possess such a quality - and therein lies a serious problem. Without prior testing, there's no way to say if my other weapons would be capable of killing any monsters I happen across… which means, for the time being, I have to stick to using Kanshou and Bakuya, the only weapons I know will work as intended.

Thinking about it, things could have gone very differently earlier, had I thought to use a different Noble Phantasm. Very different indeed... and with potentially dire consequences.

I decide right there and then to take the first reasonable opportunity to perform some experimentation. If someone were to lose their life because I instinctively used an unsuitable weapon, I don't know what I'd do.

"Ah—"

She had said something more, hadn't she? The snake-woman that is.

"What did she mean about campers?"

The girl looks at me again. Judging by her expression, I'd say she's… perplexed this time.

"You really don't know? You don't know anything?"

I shake my head. Her eyes move to my hands - the very same hands that not too long ago held deadly weapons that materialised from nowhere.

"Camp Half-Blood…" she says hesitantly. "Is a safe haven to the only coordinated group that's dedicated to fighting the spawn of the underworld. It's a training camp for… people like you."

"A training camp…"

So there is in fact a place where warriors gather, to learn how to combat these monsters. I suppose there's hope then. A hope that the darkness can be held back, maybe even one day be eradicated altogether.

The more I think about such a place, the more it intrigues me. The words 'training camp' imply that there is, in fact, someone - or perhaps several someones - who are conducting said training. In other words, an experienced figure imparting their knowledge unto those who would want to learn the art of monster slaying.

That sounds like someone I'd very much like to meet. Especially since a band of armed monsters seem very interested in scouting out their base of operations… a place dedicated to teaching people to fight... monsters…

Oh no.

I rocket to my feet with a sharp cry, startling the girl at my side with my sudden action. "The monsters… they said they're going to the camp!"

"...the camp?" she mutters.

"Where is it? I need to go and warn them before someone gets hurt!"

The girl sighs, her expression softening a moment later. "Chill out, dufus. Nobody's in any real danger."

"But—"

"But nothing. The camp's well defended and the monsters can't even cross the borders unless they're invited in. The literal embodiment of the deepest depths of the Underworld himself could show up on their doorstep tomorrow and not even he would be able to get in."

I fix her with a hard stare, looking for any sign of deception. "Really?"

"Really," She cocks her head to one side. "The embodiment of the Underworld bit may be a bit of an exaggeration now that I think about it, but I wasn't lying about the borders. I suspect the 'scouting party' is just made up of small-fry, the most expendable monsters - nothing that has a chance of being an actual threat."

For a second or two, I question the legitimacy of her words. Then I realise she has no real reason to lie to me, especially since I saved her earlier.

I crash back down to the bench, suddenly feeling even more exhausted than I was before I stood up. Thinking about it, it really has been too long since I've had a proper rest. Surprise, surprise, near-constant motion and stress in addition to a lack of both food and sleep really take it out of you.

"Good… that's good."

"Still," she continues. "The fact that they're even trying something in the first place is something to be concerned about. While most monsters are as dumb as a bag of rocks, they aren't so stupid that they'd throw themselves at an insurmountable wall without a reason. And since they're actually being organised about it, that suggests there's someone behind them who's planning something. That's… troubling."

"Someone behind them?"

"Mhmm. They wouldn't try something like this of their own violation, which means someone must be commanding them. A general, if you will. And a leader who sends out a scouting party to gather information is clearly preparing for something even bigger."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. Partly because I wouldn't expect such insight from a child, nor for her vocabulary to be so advanced. Just who is this strange child, to be aware of the darker sides of the world at such a young age? Someone blessed with a tactician's mind?

"Yes… that sounds about right."

"Which is why you need to go and warn them."

A strangled sound wrings itself from my throat. "Eh? But you said—"

"—That a small scouting party is nothing to worry about. But an actual plot is something else entirely," she jabs a finger towards my nose. "Long Island. Montauk. Near the north coast. Look for someplace isolated. As long as you get close, you'll find your way there. Like for like, the place will all but call for you."

And just like that, the childish persona is back. For some strange reason, I find it that much more jarring this time.

She does make a good point though. The camp may not be in _immediate_ danger, but the sinister plots of a monstrous overlord would likely prove problematic when they come to fruition. It would no doubt prove useful to them to learn the schemes of their enemies and I would personally benefit from paying them a visit, so it makes sense for me to do so.

However…

"What about you?" I ask.

"Me?"

"Mm. You. Will you come with me?"

A shadow seems to cross her face. "No. I… don't belong there."

Now that's a load of bull if I've ever heard it. While she doesn't give off the overt feeling of power I would get from a magus, I can still sense magic within her, now that I can actually focus on her. Or at least, it's something similar. I can't see any particular reason why I would supposedly be someone who belonged at this camp, but not her.

"...Alright. Can't say I understand, but I'll trust you know what you're talking about."

Though I'm still far from rested, I force myself to my feet. "I guess I'd better get going then. Are you going to be alright now?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I've been on my own all this time and I've managed," she replies sullenly.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I won't worry about you. I'm not in any position to tell you what to do, but would you at least consider going there?"

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze. "I… I'll think about it."

I try to suppress the smile worming its way onto my face. And I fail miserably. I put my hand on her head, briefly tousling her hair before she knocks my hand away, then turn to leave. "I'll look forward to it then. Stay safe in the meantime, okay?"

I step away from the bench, pausing just long enough to get my bearings from the position of the setting sun. My knowledge of American geography is lacking to say the least, even though we were encouraged at school to learn more about the wider world thanks to being a small island nation. But the word 'island' by itself implies it's coastal, so as long as I head south or east towards the ocean, I can be reasonably sure I'll be making progress. Precise locations can wait until later.

Just as I make to head off, the girl mumbles something under her breath.

"Hmm?"

"...Ivy. My name. Remember it, for the next time we meet."

"...Of course."

And with that small exchange, I set off for Camp Half-Blood.

* * *

The next leg of my journey proves to be just as daunting as the first, though for entirely different reasons. While I thankfully don't have to contend with another overgrown forest in the dead of the night, I do have to face every New Yorker's worst nightmare.

_Traffic_.

Everywhere I look, there's cars, cars and more cars. Small cars, big cars, and massive trucks seemingly large enough to fit you, your wife, your five children _and _your grandparents, all at the same time.

I know that my shock is likely just a result of culture shock and growing up in a much smaller city, but surely this can't be normal? For so many people to be slouching behind the wheel as they slowly trawl forwards, content to march onwards like a trail of ants from within the confines of their cushy heated cabins?

The sheer volume of traffic makes my progress slow going, much of my time ultimately wasted waiting for intersection lights to change instead of actually walking. In the end, it takes me almost two hours to make my way out of Manhattan and into Long Island proper - a journey that would have taken half the time, had the roads been clear. My one consolation is that I know for a fact that I'm heading in the right direction, thanks to a rather ostentatious tourist sign I saw on the way exclaiming 'you are here!' in lurid tangerine lettering - thankfully accompanied by a rather helpful map.

The next part proves to be rather more tricky. I figure my chances of hitching another ride to be minimal, given that George only gave me a ride out of concern for my health. If anything, that would backfire on me right now - the moment anyone gets close enough to see the blood on my clothes, they'll just nope the hell out. So if I'm going to get a ride out of anyone, I'll have to do it without them being aware of it.

So I take my chances and hop on the back of a large truck - one of those big tankers designed to ship huge quantities of fuel to gas stations and the like - and simply hope it ends up heading in the right direction.

And by some miracle, it does. Which is great, because I really wasn't looking forward to making the hundred-and-forty-five kilometre trip on foot. Does thirty-two hours of consecutive walking sound fun to me? No, it does not, but that's what it would take to walk all the way to the north-east end of the island, where I was told I'd be able to find this training camp. If I can cut that down just a little with some unethical - and not to mention extreme - tailgating, then I'm more than happy to do so.

I hadn't expected much from this, but as the minutes tick by with the tanker still heading in the right direction, I realise I must have struck gold. The kilometres begin to melt behind me, the sprawling metropolis quickly giving way to quiet suburbs. By the time we come to a stop, a full ninety minutes have passed.

I stumble away on shaky legs before the driver can spot me, the cover of darkness aiding me greatly in my getaway. The lack of an outraged cry indicates success in the matter. Very good.

I'll confess, at this point I'm struggling to work out where to go next. Ivy's directions helped, but it can't be denied that the U.S. is absolutely _huge_. A relatively small space on a map can turn out to be a span of several dozen kilometres. When you scale that up to the whole country, it gets to the point where a simple visit to another city is more a tour than a casual day-trip. And it's not like I can ask for directions to a nearby monster-hunting training camp since it's not common knowledge that such a place even exists.

With nothing else to do, I wander into a little cornerside convenience store, one of those places that apparently gets enough patronage to justify staying open this late in the evening. A quick search through the travel section yields a miniature roadmap, which I quickly glance through, before returning it to its original position.

Alright, so it seems there's a large state park no more than six or seven kilometres away from here, though it's more a nature preserve than anything. It's large, it's uninhabited and it's shielded from prying eyes… sounds like the perfect recipe for a hidden facility if ever I've heard one.

After stretching out the last of the kinks from squatting on the back of the truck earlier - as well as the lingering aches from my injuries - I start to run in a north-easterly direction, with the sort of easy lope that a trained long-distance runner can maintain for hours. The last signs of civilization quickly disappear behind me as I sink back into the cover of the snowy woods.

The transition from busy city to slumbering woodland is an abrupt one. The sights and sounds of a heavily industrialised area disappear entirely, as if a curtain has suddenly fallen behind me. Now there's just the gentle crunching of snow beneath my sodden shoes and the quiet murmurings of the nightlife.

I hesitate for a moment. Then, searching briefly through the items contained within my Reality Marble, I pull out a bow. At first glance, there's nothing remarkable about it. Its general construction is of Larch backed with Birch and sinew, its limbs recurved to give it extra power while preserving its length. The Birchbark wrappings are worn from many years of use, giving it an aged, antiquated feel. Nothing all that impressive. But what makes it really shine is its history, for once it belonged to a hunter of an ancient Siberian tribe.

As I stride forward, I draw out the bow's history, assimilating the knowledge and experience of its previous owner, a true master in tracking and stalking prey. My movements become smoother, stealthier, my perception sharpening with every passing moment. Pertinent information is more easily filtered from the overwhelming influx of sensory information.

It isn't long before I notice signs. Footprints in the snow carelessly left behind. Snapped branches and trees that have been damaged by something large and equally clumsy carelessly stumbling past. And as I follow the trail, I start to hear something just beyond the range of my hearing. Something that sticks out like a sore thumb is the gentle hubbub of the night.

An application of reinforcement brings the sound into focus. Voices. And clearly inhuman at that. It seems like I'm too late to provide a warning. The monsters are already here.

But that's not enough to deter me. If it's too late to forewarn the campers, I'll just have to eliminate the threat before then.

It's time to hunt.

* * *

Inside of a minute, I stumble on my first monsters. A mixed group of harpies, those weird snake-women and hounds from before; and a couple of giants mixed in. Having already acquainted myself with all but the latter, I turn my attention to the new addition to size them up.

Both pushing two-and-a-half metres or more, crimson eyes, oversized canines… these guys look like they might actually be a challenge. Or so I'd say, if one of them wasn't trying to catch a moth with child-like determination and the other in the midst of picking his nose. _And now he's eating it... gross._

Engrossed as they all are in their respective tasks - whether that be actual scouting work, or slacking off - the small band of monsters ahead fail to notice me tailing them. I scuttle from cover to cover, bobbing and weaving in time with the gently swaying foliage in the wind, blending seamlessly into the sparsely-placed shrubbery among the towering trees.

There's a strong headwind, carrying the scent of grease and unwashed bodies. Horrible smells aside, that's rather useful. Less chance of the more observant among them being able to detect me before it's too late.

Part of me is tempted to rush in there and get this over with. However, the more rational and less sleep-deprived side is saying to play this smart. There's only twenty of them at present, but they're all formidable in their own way. Confronting them head-on in my current condition wouldn't only be unwise, it would most likely get me in trouble with several people back home if news of it were to get out there.

Besides, there's no saying if there's more of them nearby. For all I know, there could be hundreds more lying in wait.

I go down on one knee to reduce my profile and project the first Kanshou-arrow somewhere behind me, using my own body to mask the flash of light. Then I pick my target, an unlucky monster that wandered a little too far from the group - and fire the arrow straight through their back and through their heart, killing them instantly.

The monster dissipates in seconds, leaving the other's none-the-wiser. So I follow up on my success with another arrow, then another.

My luck runs out as one of the snake-women turns just enough to catch sight of her comrade dropping to the ground and gives a warning shout. There's no telling if she managed to spot me, but she's the next to go.

Now aware of the threat I pose, the monsters managed to spot me by the light of my fifth arrow, though fail to defend against it. Thus, I take another life.

A second snake-woman bellows in a foreign tongue and waves the others forward. I'm not having any of that. She falls as my sixth target. Whether she was truly their leader or simply quicker to react than the rest, it doesn't matter. Anyone trying to instil a sense of order in my enemies is too dangerous to leave alive.

What's left of the monsters makes chase and I dance away before they have the chance to swarm me. Magical energy rushes through me, empowering my every movement. Every stride covers more ground than the last, the wind whipping past me in a fury as I dare them to follow me.

As it turns out, the trio of hounds among them are more than happy to give chase. Evidently, their physiology gives them an advantage over the others as they quickly break away from the pack.

I run a quick calculation in my head. They're maybe… four times faster than your average human, with a top speed of around… ninety-five kilometres-per-hour? Yes, that sounds about right. That would put them at around twice as fast as the Doberman, the breed they most closely resemble. Given their comparative bulk, that's quite respectable. Still not fast enough to catch me though.

Having lured the hounds a good couple hundred metres away from the others, I suddenly change direction, heading off at a right angle to my original direction and speeding up even more. The ground starts to slope upwards gradually, the gap between us widening further. Then, as I reach the base of a small hill, I spring my trap.

Bow still in hand, I trace three more arrows, one after the other. I turn, firing off each arrow as they appear, digging deep furrows in the snow with my feet as I skid to a halt.

Each arrow strikes its mark, the three hounds running face-first into my rapid barrage. Their bodies soon meet the forest floor, dead before they hit the ground.

I spare a moment to assess the distance between me and the main bulk of the group. A fair margin still, plus they don't seem to have realised that I'd veered off from my original direction yet. This just gets better and better.

Three more of the monsters go down as I pelt them sidelong with arrows, one of the two giants being the first to meet their end. Only eight left.

Except there's only four in front of me.

The rustle of leaves above me is all the warning I get before a clawed foot descends from above. I barely manage to throw myself to one side before it rakes through the space where my head previously occupied.

The harpy flaps its wings once, twice, then disappears back into the canopy above. I line up a shot as it forces its way through the branches above, but am then forced to throw myself to the ground once again as a second harpy swoops in behind me.

They're all around now, caging me in with their attacks. Pinning me in place so the others can draw in.

I grit my teeth, forcing my disparaging thoughts from my head. My brainpower can be better spent thinking up how to counter this than by berating myself for making such a rookie mistake.

The bow is clearly out. The moment I start to aim at a target, the harpies can attack from a different direction. With next to no time to react, I can't just re-sight at a whim. Besides, a bow isn't suitable for blocking omni-directional attacks, or any attacks, for that matter.

I dismiss my bow, replacing it instead with a circular iron shield, strong but light enough to manoeuvre with ease. As for the arrow, I simply alter that back into its blade form, the more familiar weight of Kanshou settling into my right hand once more.

The crashing sound comes once again and another harpy bursts into the open.

I turn in place and raise my shield above my head, grinning with grim satisfaction as the surprised look on the monster's face. It lashes out, its talons gouging the surface of my shield, catching ever so slightly. Then my retaliatory strike rises above the shield's edge and takes it in the chest.

Another harpy falls in the same way. In the end, the final two come at me simultaneously. They've learned the folly of coming at me one after the other, having seen the fate of their fellows through the brief glimpses their dive-bombing provides them, so they won't fall victim to that particular strategy. Fighting me together is their best chance.

They plough through the canopy at breakneck speed, talons bared to claw me to pieces—

—Only to find me not standing where they'd expected.

The moment they'd initiated their attack, I'd dashed backwards with all the speed my reinforcement provides me. Thirty metres of open terrain now divides us. Now struggling to reverse direction, the harpies are at their most vulnerable, while I have a clear line of sight.

Kanshou and a newly-projected Bakuya streak towards them, little more than blurs as they cut through the air like buzzsaws. With no time to dodge, the two harpies are speared through by the married blades and added to my body count.

By this time, the final four have all but caught up to me. But instead of retreating and putting distance between us once more, I rush to meet them, a new set of Kanshou and Bakuya in hand.

All too quickly, things turn to utter chaos. What my opponents seem to lack in skill, they more than make up for with enthusiasm. Their strikes come from all angles seemingly any attempt at strategy, seeking to overwhelm me with sheer strength and ferocity.

I answer with a flurry of my own, parrying and deflecting before counter-attacking with ruthless efficiency. A snake-woman's slash is blocked, the attacker kicked away before she has the chance to swing again. My other blade rises to stop the thrust aimed at my ribs. The giant takes the opportunity to swing a massive club down at my head and I dive between its legs, altering Bakuya much like I would to make an arrow. Then I stab the impromptu stake through the giant's calf, pinning the limb to the floor.

The giant bellows in pain and swipes at me backhanded, but I duck under the blow and skip out of its range. One of the snake-women is struck a blow from the thrashing giant and goes down for a moment. The other two wisely stay out of the giant's range as they circle around to me. They come at me simultaneously and we trade blows for several seconds, but the two of them are no match from me. One over-exaggerates their swing and I dodge back, then back in, lopping its arm off at the elbow. The second - seeing their ally start to slowly break apart - hesitates a moment too long, then stumbles back, begging for mercy.

I don't oblige it. I swing twice. The first is blocked, more by luck than skill. The second takes her head.

Pausing just a moment to catch my breath, I turn to regard my final opponent. The giant I impaled is looking… rather worse for wear. He has yet to completely disintegrate - whether it's because it's stronger than its fellows, or because I stabbed it in a non-vital area, it's hard to say. As it is, everything up to its knee has pretty much crumbled to ash, the skin cracking and flaking away as more of the limb slowly succumbs to the effects of the blade. There's something... morbidly fascinating about watching someone fall to pieces in front of you. I would almost be moved to pity if I wasn't aware that this creature had likely done a lot of harm in its lifetime. So instead, all I feel is a sense of satisfaction that it will soon be leaving this world.

Wounded or not, it makes no sense to take my chances by getting too close. I cock my arm back, then fling it forward, sending Kanshou straight through its back to pierce its heart.

Silence descends. Only the sound of my laboured breathing can be heard. Then the sound of applause echoes out.

I turn my gaze up to the hill, where a dozen lightly-armoured youths, all in their mid to late teens, stand in a rather loose military formation.

"Well done, well done!" one of them says. "That was quite a show."

"I'm glad I could entertain you," I reply sheepishly. Had I really had an audience the whole time and not realised? I really have gotten sloppy. "I assume you guys are from the camp I heard about? Camp Half-Blood, was it?"

"Oh! You've heard of us, have you?" asks another, a girl this time. "Yep, that's us."

"Oh…" I scramble around for something to say. "So, is it a hobby of yours to watch people fight monsters, or…?"

The girl flushes scarlet and stammers out something unintelligible that I'm going to creatively interpret as a yes - but at least my accidentally witty remark elicits some chuckles from the others. Along with a few embarrassed looks.

"Not especially," someone answers. "We were just a little surprised, is all. You've got some serious moves... for a rookie, anyway."

Another camper looks around confusedly. "Where's your protector, kid?"

"Protector?"

"Yeah, the sa—" the guy catches himself. "The guy who came with you. Your escort."

"I… didn't have one?"

"No escort?" the first guy interjects, to which I shake my head. He strokes his chin in contemplation and mutters something beneath his breath.

He grins suddenly. "That's even better. Say, I feel like our camp director'd like to meet you. What d'you say, wanna try out some Camp Half-Blood hospitality?"

"That's what I'm here for," I state dryly.

"Great!" he claps me on the shoulder and gestures up the hill. "Let's go then."

The other campers fall in around us as we head up the hill. The guy who first spoke to me - who I assume to be their informal leader - chatters away animatedly, to which I tiredly chatter back in an effort not to be rude. But I'd be lying if most of my attention wasn't on other things.

_It's over_.

My first _real_ fight with these monsters, that is, since I hardly think an ambush versus a mere half-dozen ill-prepared monsters counts as combat. And I got out without so much as a scratch.

I smile a small, contented smile. Not bad for my first time. It's a shame it took so much out of me, but given that I'm not working at my full-strength, I think I can cut myself a little slack. Still, this just illustrates how much stronger my adult body is over this new one… seriously, what was I even doing back then? I suppose I'll have to add exercising to my to-do list.

My growing list of problems aside, at least I'm making progress on one front. All-in-all, things have gone rather well. I met a kind stranger who gave me a helping hand, happened to be in the right time and place to save Ivy from the monsters that attacked her and was subsequently pointed in the direction of someone who might provide the answers I'm searching for. Then everything just happened to coincide in such a way that my journey here was easy as cake, my first real taste of combat against American phantasmal beasts was a success...

And now I'm here. Talk about luck. _Suck it Archer, guess my luck's better than yours!_

_Except that's not how a Servant's Luck works, right?_

Out of nowhere, I recall a lecture Rin once gave me regarding Servant Parameters. Most of them are self-explanatory - in the case of Strength, Endurance, Agility and Mana, the rank given is determined by a certain value, taken as a multiple of base human attributes. Noble Phantasms rankings are a little more complex but generally revolve around sheer destructive power, utility etc.

But Luck… Luck is more complicated. How do you quantify something as ephemeral as circumstances brought about by chance?

The answer is simple: you don't.

To use Rin's words: _"A Servant's Luck is measured not by their degree of relative fortune, but by their ability to defy Fate."_

So, for example, a Servant with a sufficiently high Luck stat could potentially avoid a fate-altering attack… one that always strikes for the heart. Except when it doesn't. Which is exactly what happened when Lancer attacked me in my home for the first time, only for Saber to shrug off his Noble Phantasm with only a slight flesh wound to show for it. Fun times.

So, either my luck is a lot higher than that of my potential future self, or Fate itself has guided me here. Either way, that sounds pretty good to me. In fact, the idea of everything being orchestrated for me to arrive here has a lot of appeal.

"Here we are."

We start to crest the top of the hill. "Welcome to Camp Half—"

I slam into something. A wall.

Except there's nothing in front of me but thin air. Nothing to grab onto.

I fall flat on my back, my already shaky legs unable to hold me upright. "Ouch," I grumble, tenderly climbing back up. "What was that all abo—"

My sentence goes unfinished. The campers are gathered around me at a careful distance. Their expressions are as blank as can be.

They draw their weapons as one. I idly glance at one of them - a subtly glowing bronze shortsword. It's old - that's what my eyes, my _magic_ is telling me. Far too old for a blade that's seen continuous battle over its lifetime. A normal blade would have broken long ago, yet all I can tell is that it's made of bronze and nothing else.

No… there's something else. Something my eyes can't determine, something so utterly alien that they can't make sense of it. I once saw a sword that pained me just to look at, caused my mind to fizzle and break in a way that no other weapon has... the blade in front of me isn't like that. Yet it denies me that knowledge, curses me for my impertinence and refuses to divulge that facet of itself.

But there's one thing I can determine. This blade has been wielded against countless monsters over nearly a century… but not once has it been raised against a human.

Until now. They're _all_ pointed at me.

"Er… let's not do anything too hasty, ok?" I take a step back - or start to, before realising that backing towards a wall of swords is a bad idea - and settle for raising my hands in surrender. Hopefully I can talk my way out of this without getting stabbed.

And if not… well, that's just my fate then, I guess.

* * *

**Well, hi. It's been a while. A lot longer than I would have hoped for, but I'm back for chapter 5 after about four and a half months.**

**Trust me, that wasn't intentional. While I was trying to come up with this chapter, I was suddenly struck down the worst case of writer's block I've ever had. I spent a solid two months not writing _anything_ because of it, which then killed my motivation to even try, which then made me question my ability as a writer... you get the idea, it's a vicious cycle that just makes it possible to do anything.**

**Fortunately, I came up with a technique that helped me overcome it (namely distancing myself from all possible distractions like the internet and my rather bloated games library) and now after spending a rather lovely time in my garden with my laptop sans internet, I'm back. Did you miss me? I missed you. And I missed this. I'm also more than a little sleep deprived because I've been writing pretty much non-stop for about a week and it's currently gone midnight here, so I should probably address the things I actually need to cover here instead of going crazy.**

**This chapter is a bit of a mess with bits that I'm really happy with and others that I take one look at and just think 'ew'. Please don't judge me too harshly for the bits that are subpar, I tried my best with the cards (and trials) that were dealt to me. And isn't that all we can really ask for?**

**Consequently, the storytelling may be a little all over the place. In particular, I feel like Shirou has gone a little OOC in parts, mainly just his internal monologue. I partly blame that on the VNs, since he tends to act like a narrator and blandly state facts almost as if he's not really a part of what's going on. The only real exception being when he's being killed, or killing himself by over-using his magic. So I may have accidentally super-imposed my thought processes over his. Apologies for this, I may have to look at editing this at some point to make it more in line with how he would react. Maybe I'm just being overly-critical and you disagree entirely. Do leave a review to let me know your thoughts, I do much appreciate the feedback.**

**Second thing is... uh... about feedback, surprisingly. People definitely agreed that I strung the prologue on a bit too long, so I tried to make up for lost time here by spiriting Shirou off to CHB in one chapter. Things should move a lot quicker from this point on. Not much more to say here, really.**

**Anyway, that's it from me for now (though as usual, I've probably forgotten something). As always, let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Bit of both? Even a one-line review is enough for me to get an idea of how you feel about it, so please do consider writing something.**

**Thanks for reading. Big thanks to Berix for beta-ing once again. I'll see you all in the next one.**

**EDIT: A few people have expressed doubts about my choice to make Shirou unable to read Celestial Bronze weapons (which is NOT the thing I thought people would take issue with, surprisingly. I thought the thing about Noble Phantasms would get more flack). So rather than answer everyone individually, I thought it would be a good idea to explain my reasoning here, so at least any new readers can get an idea of my thought process.**

**After I had a look at the wiki page for Celestial Bronze and a number of associated pages, I found out that it's mined from Mount Olympus (the seat of the gods and a Very Magical Place) and then forged by Hephaestus and/or the cyclops (presumably involving a Very Magical Procedure) and only AFTER that can anyone get their hands on the stuff. Apparently a lot of the Celestial Bronze in the mortal realm comes from bits Hephaestus discarded, so it's unclear if the demigods simply found these bits and pieces, or if Olympus actively supplies some of it for Hephaestus' kids to mess around with. So I doubt any of the campers know the secret to forging the stuff. So I guess only Hephaestus, the cyclops and MAYBE the Telekhines would know? The first being a god and the latter two being non-human races descending from the divine.**

**Whatever technique is actually involved, I believe Shirou would struggle to wrap his head around at first glance, because the magic involved would be so radically different from what he's used to that it'd be a foreign concept. Would it be beyond the realm of possibility for him to learn eventually? I'd say not... actually, I have plans for this. I won't spoil anything on it, so for the time being, please bear with me while I act like a mad scientist and cook something up. It'll be worth it, I promise... hopefully. We'll see if I can pull it off.**

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_If you like what you read here, please consider supporting me on P.A.T.R.E.O.N._

_P a treon.c om (slash) TheEternalEscapist_


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